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Dhimss Nov 2021
I Remember, I was twelve.
It was the first time I stayed up the whole night.
Not because I could but because my friend said I couldn't.
Curled with a book, stifling yawn after yawn.
I watched the sun rise
So elated. So naive.
Afterall who'd willingly pass up on sleep if not a child.

I remember I was twelve
Escaping clutches of sweet sleep.
Six years later I lay in bed,
Struggling to call the sleep I pushed away.
Staring aimlessly, frustrated,
screaming into a pillow, clutching it tightly.
6:40am IST
My eyes sting and relentless tears stream from them falling like caresses on my cheek.
I twist, I turn.
I try and try some more,
Then slowly succumb to boredom,
Seeking the sleep I hid from.
I m not sure if this is a poem.
Liza Aug 2020
i turned eighteen today
the voice in my head had, something to say
“you’ve done so well, 132”
she told me “no one will recognize you”
that was before i lost all self control
looking around i see the ice cream bowl
now all i can do is eat
and eat
Emily Donoher Jul 2020
thirteen days left of summer
i am thirteen               thirsty
for genuinity                today
served me nothing         i am
hungry        to be     eighteen
in grass that is chrome green
feeling ***** but feeling clean      &
not apologising for it
Luna Maria Jul 2020
I thought that
By the age of eighteen
I would be happy

But I still feel empty
I still scratch my legs until they are red
I still cry in the shower until I am numb
I still havent figured out everything yet.
I still ache and that won’t change by just turning eighteen
Lil Moon Moon Jun 2020
On the edge of seventeen,
And on the brink of eighteen.

Wow ain't that a scary truth?
Growing up is such a funny thought;

You're a carefree kid once upon a time,
And then a mature adult on the clock's next chime.

Turn eighteen, they said,
Join the big boys, they said.

But truth is, adulthood is a serious business,
One that comes with bills, and debts, and losses.

It may be my one ticket to freedom and legality,
but it sure is hell carrying all that responsibility.

So thank you sir for the nice offer,
But I don't really want to get involved there.

I'm comfortable here in my naivety,
Where my childish whims are the propriety.

So let my eighteen candles burn bright up ahead,
Cause I'll douse it out without an ounce of dread.
Katelynn Mar 2020
I am eighteen years old.
That doesn't seem like a lot,
But to me,
It is everything.

Eighteen years is all I've ever known.
Even if I died tomorrow,
Still eighteen.
While that might not seem like much to you.
You are probably not eighteen.

Despite my age,
I have been through a lot.
Some say more than most,
Even then those who are older.

At eight years old I lost my dad.
At eleven years old I lost my mom.
At eighteen years old,
I've learned to be okay with that.

Between eleven and thirteen I was abused.
I eventually escaped and was safe again.
At eighteen years old I am still in fear of this sometimes,
But I am working on that.

At seventeen years old I applied for college.
I was accepted and excited to go.
At eighteen years old I dropped out.
All of the anxiety and illnesses became too much,
But I am working on that.

For eighteen years I've dealt with mental illness.
Currently being called Bipolar,
Manic and depressive episodes are common,
But I am working on that.

In the past eighteen years,
I've learned new things.
I've learned who to trust,
And who to believe.
I am still working on the difference between them.

In eighteen years I've learned to let go.
Toxic or not.
Family or not.
Just letting grudges be free.
I'm still working on that.

In eighteen years I've learned skills.
With the musicals I've been in.
With my writing continuing.
Even better at communicating now.

But yet I am eighteen.
With time hopefully left,
Leaving room to gain new experiences,
Because eighteen isn't a lot.

But I do thank eighteen.
For all that it has taught me.
From being confident,
To being reassured,
And everything in between.

Because I am almost nineteen.
And nineteen is a lot.
This poem is about despite being eighteen I have been through a lot but knowing it is only getting started and I can't wait to see what nineteen has in store soon.
julianna Feb 2020
keneth Dec 2019
she's the tender glow of the gloomy moon;
pale and vibrant and emphatic
it's her eyes that made this withered garden bloom
this rose's breaths are erratic-
eighteen was her name, her smile was embracing
and her age is my childhood love:
it's always young, and it does not displace
she is coming, she was here
we grow up
Colm Nov 2019
When Fabienne plays the harmonica
In that gently abiding way
My head turns ever so slight with memory
And my eyes gleam anew with river sheen
Walking down a path called contentment
I smile, and for a moment stay

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