A few hours after the first time someone
looks at you sardonically and says
"Grow up," you feel altogether alone.
Suddenly it becomes one of those days
when the adolescent heart's wilderness
begins eroding. Soon, nobody pays
attention -- not even you -- to distress
in the loosened soil: the dissuaded dreams
you've discarded. Your talent grows listless
and struggles, unacknowledged, till it seems
like the person you used to be and not
you presently, or as another deems.
August 15, 2013
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 1:34 PM UTC
A few hours after the first time someone
looks at you sardonically and says
"Grow up," you feel altogether alone.
Suddenly it becomes one of those days
when the adolescent heart's wilderness
begins eroding. Soon, nobody pays
attention -- not even you -- to distress
in the loosened soil: the dissuaded dreams
you've discarded. Your talent grows listless
and struggles, unacknowledged, till it seems
like the person you used to be and not
you presently, or as another deems.
August 15, 2013
This poem is in terza rima, the form Dante used in his Divine Comedy.
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