Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
caroline-aganPoems
When I was eight years old, I overlooked a moment of compassion And challenged the will of a fellow third grader Compelled by my ignorance She gave the most astute summary of my life ever uttered. When I was eight years old, A frizzy haired girl asked me an impudent question A question of infinite importance: How do you sleep? How do you sleep at night, since you know yourself? When I was eight years old, my arrogant mind brimmed with resentment Reaffirming that I, I, apart from my arrogance, Was the best person I knew. I was eight years old, and a prophet had spoken. Eight years later, I long to be swallowed by the sheets Eyes stare mockingly at the dormant ceiling Clinging to the handrails As my train of thought Careens off the tracks Exploding in a cloud of terror and regret Eight years later, I long for the simple arrogance of my eight year old mind I long to close my eyes And remember nothing Because today, Today I am sixteen And tomorrow I will be twenty-four And the next day I shall be eighty When I'm eighty, I'll stare at the bleached walls Succumbing to the force of the past As it consumes the present. When I turn eighty-eight, I'll look to the end of my starched bed And He shall smile Saying, "Well done!" I hope I lie, when I'm eighty-eight, Because If I am honest If I tell the truth I do not know who he is And I never have I will be cast away because, eighty years before, When I was eight years old, I was arrogant But still innocent eighty years from death and eighty years from shame I could have heeded those words The words of the frizzy haired girl When I was eight years old, I could have decided I could have had him sing me to sleep I could have died entirely unlike myself. Now that I'm sixteen, I still do nothing.
0
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 12:14 PM UTC
8
When I was eight years old, I overlooked a moment of compassion And challenged the will of a fellow third grader Compelled by my ignorance She gave the most astute summary of my life ever uttered. When I was eight years old, A frizzy haired girl asked me an impudent question A question of infinite importance: How do you sleep? How do you sleep at night, since you know yourself? When I was eight years old, my arrogant mind brimmed with resentment Reaffirming that I, I, apart from my arrogance, Was the best person I knew. I was eight years old, and a prophet had spoken. Eight years later, I long to be swallowed by the sheets Eyes stare mockingly at the dormant ceiling Clinging to the handrails As my train of thought Careens off the tracks Exploding in a cloud of terror and regret Eight years later, I long for the simple arrogance of my eight year old mind I long to close my eyes And remember nothing Because today, Today I am sixteen And tomorrow I will be twenty-four And the next day I shall be eighty When I'm eighty, I'll stare at the bleached walls Succumbing to the force of the past As it consumes the present. When I turn eighty-eight, I'll look to the end of my starched bed And He shall smile Saying, "Well done!" I hope I lie, when I'm eighty-eight, Because If I am honest If I tell the truth I do not know who he is And I never have I will be cast away because, eighty years before, When I was eight years old, I was arrogant But still innocent eighty years from death and eighty years from shame I could have heeded those words The words of the frizzy haired girl When I was eight years old, I could have decided I could have had him sing me to sleep I could have died entirely unlike myself. Now that I'm sixteen, I still do nothing.
It's meant to be yelled at an audience, not read.
caroline-agan
Written by
caroline-agan
American
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 12:14 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem