I am afraid Afraid to grow old To have my hair turn white And my hands grow gnarled I am afraid Of time Shaping me Making me A different person Changing me I am afraid To forget The time Long gone I am afraid Of running Out of time
Youth is only accepted when the cameras are ready. Pose for a picture by reason of Getty. Gone are the days of sticks and stones and spilled milk. We live in a melting *** that has been dropped and spilt. This is not an adults swim only. We will all jump into the pool. This is not a land of first come, first serve. I speak cause I’ve got nerve. Our age is not a reflection of our IQ. Our age is the tape that covers our mouths. Our age is not a representation of our wisdom. We won’t be seen and not heard. Because our voices are the anthem of a rebellion.
I wrote this because so many adults in my life have tried to keep me from expressing my feelings.
She’s soft and smells like rose petals Yet she scratches and scrubs At blood red skin even though It’s been washed a million times before Tired eyes meet their match In the silvery visage of their oldest friend
Crimson lips part, then furl At the reflection who’s no longer a youthful girl Auburn hair tumbling out of place, Aging actress falling far from grace, One clenched fist in a lace white glove Eyelids dripping as she screams above