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They say i'm young,
Young and small.
But do they know,
I've always learned,
From my fall?

I know more than most,
My soul is the bravest.
While i'm fighting,
Lots are out there being wasted.

I've learned from my mistakes,
Still doing everything it takes.

Because i'm not done,
Actually in the middle.
But once i get out,
Who is the one being little?

Not me,
Been there done that.
Screaming, yelling,
Tears falling, eyes red.

Hate, anger,
Sadness and fear.
Always on the run,
Hoping no one comes near.

They say that i'm young,
Young and small.
But do they know,
I've already been through it all?

-anoeska
Sam Sep 24
And the forests swallow young men
(who don’t know what they’re looking for)
just the same as old men
(who do)

Where foot joins boot joins soil joins root,
shadow kisses shade in the embroidery of vine, and lace of web, and bedpost of birch,
and satin of morning mist

And young men want to know
and old men wished they didn’t
but the forest will take them both
and that should be enough
to make any man wary.
But I’m not.
Are you?
Àŧùl Sep 23
I was young and naughty,
Like all other kids I was.

Of the school Matador,
The minibus,
I was a commuter.

Nirmal Public School,
Was all but a
Normal Public School.

For it was a strung off
From the highway
And was my first school.

In the Matador,
The last window was
Ajar.

It was already dangling,
My friend joked,
"You can't break it."

His comment,
Me it motivated,
I sought to prove I can.

I pushed it intentionally,
And the last nuts,
They became undone.

The window went thrashing down,
And the driver-conductor duo,
Me they punished.

It was overcast that afternoon,
And they made me crouch akin to a ****,
It started raining down.

Then the math teacher came,
And she vouched for my innocence,
"It was already dangling."

The bus crew,
They argued,
"But it was still there."

I was young,
Just 7 years,
And cute too.

The bus crew,
They softened up,
And let me go.

Ma'am, do you now remember me?
You travelled by the same bus,
For you lived in the same campus.

The National Dairy Research Institute,
Its residential campus we both called home,
I miss those days when I was young.
My HP Poem #1998
©Atul Kaushal
Mrs Timetable Aug 30
You are that boy
I showed up to school for
The one who never knew
What he meant
To me
Wanting to be wanted
Just in case
He looked up
But never did
Still...
I always think
About him
His essence
Follows you around
The way I do
Maybe he looked when I didn't see, maybe he was shy as me
Jeremy Betts Aug 28
When young
You think you'll never grow old
When old
You forget what it means to be young
And I?
I wonder aimlessly somewhere in the middle
Ruheen Aug 13
i don't know anything
but i'm young
i have an excuse

you're older
you say you know better
but you know nothing
what's your excuse?

you say you know me better
but if you really did
then you'd never want to see me again

see, i don't know anything
because i'm young
so just excuse all of the above
i just told you my excuse

or so everyone says
when they justify what i do
what other young people do
then turn around and fault us for being young

i don't know if i like it
if i'm supposed to feel relieved or insulted
sometimes both

you see, there's the kind, comforting "you're young, you'll learn"

the exasperated, tired-of-you "oh my god, you're young"

the condescending, i-know-better-than-you "you're so young"

the i-wish-i-was-you, "i can't believe how young you are"

the unsolicited, let-me-give-you-some-advice "you're young right now"

and then the hesitant, i'm-not-qualified-for-this-and-i'm-bullshitting "you're young...you know..."

i might have missed some
let me know
i just know that ageism is a real plague to our society
it's time things change







Hahahaha I'm kidding. Maybe. Not really.

Call me young.
I am.
There's nothing I can do about it.
I'm going to stay young for as long as I am young.
What good comes out of growing up too fast?
So call me young.
Until I'm not.

I will use it as an excuse for as long as I can.
Remember, I'm young.
D Cole Jun 24
My mind is a storm, but
If you ask me how I'm doing...
I would probably say..
"I'm okay" ... like many threads of make-believe that I've woven into a seeing glass that I see my reality in.
The things that used to effortlessly settled in my mind, I now strive for...
I miss childhood innocence,
the peace my mind used to cuddle with and take for granted,
the beauty in naivety of how good people are
I miss how little control I had over my story...
I guess I was comfortable with someone else holding the pen, as though I'm more confident in them to write what's best for me than myself

My mind is a storm, I guess because I now write my own story
I never used to bother my mind with...
When should a new chapter in my life start? Where should I put a full stop... Should pause now, Does the sentence have too much emotions...I'm I writing my story right?...which characters should I give more screen time?...is this a sad story?  What do other writers think? Do I have an easer?  Do I know when I should start writing again?
But of late, my thoughts conjure answers from the mirrors around my life
I ponder on which version if reflection I should section keep                                                
  I tell my myself... maybe if I was a writer,                       maybe then I'd know what I'm doing wrong,
maybe I'd know what a good story looks like.

My mind is a storm, for I have spilled the ink of my thoughts over the canvas of my life, and I see not my next step.
I thought I'd distract myself with an abstract masterpiece from the noise of the colours, but my hand knows not the path to strike the fitting brush strokes.
To me, I'm a mess... perhaps other eyes see art
To me I'm a mess...but I can't say I'm done with my story.
Generic thoughts in your 20s!
newborn May 24
i thought i broke my ribs laughing,
young and dying to be seen
i have no better place to be at 12 a.m, but beside you.
i wanna love you
so unapologetically.
you’re the cure to my illnesses.
we ran like little kids and the playground was blue, illuminated by the lights of little houses.
we ran and bolted and had no regrets;
i have no regrets.
i want to love you
like that playground loved school children
its only purpose to love the laughter till it disappears along with the breeze.
i had to disappear too.
i am older now,
and lost and you grabbed my hand and took me with you
and you are so wonderful,
allowing me to become a little kid again
chasing in the street
laughing till our ribs are soft and shattering.
what are we now?
swim with me.
let’s leap from the dock and become one.
i am a kid and you are who i look up to with wide eyes
and a tender soul
hold me in your lap
let me sleep and hold me
hold me
hold me.
so softly
so my ribs do not shatter.
my last day of high school is tomorrow. this is crazy. thank you for the memories. you made me feel like a little kid :)

5/23/24
Rosie Mar 19
At fifteen, the reaper came, silent in the night,
Stealing me from youth's warm, calming delight.
****** into a world where heartbreak resides,
Where innocence withers and hope slowly dies.

No more laughter, just echoes of pain,
Sorrow's lament, a relentless refrain.
Gone are the dreams that once danced in our sight,
Replaced by storm clouds, obscuring the light.

Now, I linger by your grave,
With flowers wilted, their colors all grey.
I mourn the loss of innocence, the childhood's decay,
In the quiet, I kneel, with so much left to say.

Grief marks the end of youth, a bitter pill to swallow,
and builds a home for loneliness to wallow.
It's been almost ten years now, and I still can't move on from losing you.
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