Maturing is realizing that you’re no longer afraid of the dark,
But still longing to lie in bed beside your mom.

Maturing is realizing that your parents will one day be gone,
And it could be tomorrow, or in ten years,
And every word they speak could be their last.
Maturing is realizing that you, too, will one day be gone,
And you’ll never know when.

Maturing is staring out of the window for seven minutes at 3 a.m.
It is the feeling in your chest telling you to rest.
It’s crying once in a while.
It’s being scared,
But still wanting to be brave.

Maturing is living in uncertainty for the rest of your life.
Maturing is realizing that, even if you don’t know how, when, or why,
You’ll try to do your best.
And sometimes, that’s all you can do.

A little lipstick
On the lips,
A little blusher
On the nose,
When my mother
Goes out shopping
I like to
Wear her clothes.