shivalihp

this is not a poem. 

this is not a song.

this is not metaphor, a sonnet, an ode, not a ballad, a rant, not even a dream–

this is a plea. 

Well yes, I am still young

You can call me a kid, but I will never again be

The toddler I was, smiling at joyous things

That I no longer enjoy now that I'm older,

And I like older kid things.

I write too much of things that aren't real. The imagined fear and pain of living a life I haven't got.

This life I have, this life is real, and I am on the precipice of demise. 

The golden, bright, vibrant sun,

shines throughout the day. 

It shines brightly on the first day of school.

I miss Halloween

Not because it changed

But I did

I miss going with my parents and my brother

And stuffing my face with candy

I miss meticulously planning out a costume

  I am in the eighth grade at a junior high school in Texas. Please, if even for a brief moment, let my voice be heard.