bumblebea

the good girls club

where the happy girls cry

and the strait A students have some down time

where the perfect act falls

and the sad girl comes in

for a moment or two 

I have a long page on the notes app dedicated to my Incomplete poems

And Google Docs full of recent Incomplete stories

Old notebooks filled with Incomplete songs

And yet older stories from my childhood

I don't want alot in life

And I know I'm really young

But I often wish for something more

I wish for a first love

And I know that highschool romance 

Is no more than cliche

Is it the art or the artist

That is not good enough?

Why is it

That I only get praised for my art online?

Why is it

That I only get awards 

When the judges don't know me?

Should I be defined

Life is made of firsts and lasts. 

Your first breath,

When your parents hold you close.

Your first steps, 

When you can wander around alone.

Your first words, 

When I was four I wished for five, 

When I’d be in Kindergarten

When I was five I wished that preschool would come back again

Again at six I wished to age

At seven I wished the same