Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2015
When you're sixteen you have the illusion that your invincible, that life never ends and you cant be touched, a weak since of morality. But the fact is, everyone's being is riding on a pulse. Death is inconsiderate of age, no matter if he was only sixteen and the other only eighteen.

I hope you're up there playing football with the pros, you used to tell me that was your dream,
before you passed...at only sixteen.
Love
Written by
Love
Please log in to view and add comments on poems