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She always wanted to be her older self
Taller, smarter, stronger, prettier
Looking in the mirror she strove
to be that person, everybody loved
a head turner.

Today she looked again.
Reflecting off were bigger goals -
Striving to be even older, even smarter
More compelling, both chaos and order
Achieving every dream, her fire burnt brighter

Little did she know, the girl in the mirror
was what she wished for, years earlier
While wanting to be better, aiming higher
she forgot to see that she really was
the perfect person she once desired.
waffle Nov 2020
i don't know why im writing this. but i used to write every so often when i was younger.
i am turning 18.
it almost feels like a fever dream. i never felt this frightened my whole life.
is my life really starting? is this the beginning of a decade?
where am i gonna be after this? how am i gonna feel?

you see, growing up, it's that just simple.
nothing changes, and you still gotta wait for something to.
it doesn't magically happens.

and i hate waiting.
i wanna be older and free.
but, most of the time i wish life was simpler like when i was younger.
i was listening to ribs by lorde and my birthday is coming up.
colette alexia Aug 2020
I knew him 63 days
We'd been together for five
But he was never one to be afraid to speak his mind

He told me that he loved me that drive
Taking me home for the summer
That we'd spend apart each night

He said he loved the way I kissed him
We started out over long distance, I tried so hard to make sense of it
The way my heart was feeling things without my permission

It's funny now to talk about those first days
When we couldn't hang out because of your roommate
You asked him how he'd feel about you taking me out on a date

We went to the sunset but we didn't watch it
Too busy talking with our hands on each other
It was clear to me then that we were in trouble

You said I'm the only girl that you'd called baby
I said you're the first guy that I let taste me
I don't even know what we were really saying

I had one hand in your hair and one on your chest
You looked at me and said you didn't want nobody else
I said don't say it if you don't mean it

I knew on the day you picked me up from the airport
In your ripped blue jeans and your dark, black t-shirt
You were someone that I actually cared for

We were both young, but you were younger
Something that I often even forgot of
Must have been the way you talked to my father

Or maybe what you said when you left for the summer
TS Jun 2020
Sitting on my porch with a messy bun atop my head, wearing shorts and an oversized t-shirt, spiral bound notebook in hand, and my knees up to my chest.

Reflecting on the years past, the bridges that I've built and the ones I've burned. It's interesting how seasons play such a big part of our lives. The weather is just one of those. It's cold outside, we change our clothes to warmer ones, light fires in the fireplace, drink warm drinks. It's hot outside, we change our clothes to cooler ones, swim in cool water, drink ice cold drinks. We are constantly trying to be exactly the opposite of our surroundings. Why?

Besides the general scientific fact of hypothermia and heat exhaustion, we not only change who we are in season of weather but in seasons of life. When we are in high school, all we do is long to grow up. When we are grown, we miss those carefree nights catching fireflies in our backyard. When we need friends so bad that we would do anything, even reject who we are, to be important to someone. When we recognize our importance and that quality over quantity is key.

Life holds so many twists and turns. One can look back on the last 5 years of your life and see just how much you've changed, how those around you have changed and the changes that will come in the path ahead.

It's okay to not be the same, feel the same, or want the same things as you did 5 years ago. You didn't disappoint your younger self, you just grew. You grew into someone new that has been seasoned by life experience. At 17, maybe all you wanted was to go to college, get drunk, have tons of friends, and be free. At 32, all you need is a quiet home with space just for you and your art. You yourself are a season and it's perfectly okay to change.

silly May 2020
What empowers me most,
Is that here,
I am seen for who I want to be seen as,
Not someone I accidentally portrayed when I was younger.
Abby Feb 2020
I wrote a poem almost a year ago about wishing to be the girl who could just be happy without trying
And I want to tell year ago me that I’m almost there
There are still times when I overthink everything and I’m sure that there always will be
But, when you have someone with you who constantly tells you that you are perfect and beautiful and worth it, well their words start to sink in
I in no way believe I’m perfect
But I do know I’m happier and sometimes that’s all that matters
Lilly F Dec 2019
wishing I was older
while trying to slow down time

Jules Oct 2019
I wonder whether to be ignorant than aware
Would be worse
At least I'd be somewhat happy
On this perfect sunny earth
But I was never fond of summer to begin with
So I guess it doesn't matter if I'm here or nonexistent

Another part of me is kinda happy living free
To catch up with all the people and faces I used to be
Reminds me of home
from when I was younger
Who knew I'd miss the love and laughter
Like a brother
Mark Toney Oct 2019
The older we are
The more invisible by far
We seem to the younger mind
But soon they will see
What's known by you and me
We're only immortal for a limited time
10/19/2019 - Poetry form:  Rhyme - This poem was inspired by Sue Collins's poem "See me" posted on HePo on October 10, 2019, and reposted on my profile. Thanks, Sue! - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Poetoftheway Aug 2014
"Son can you play me a memory
I'm not really sure how it goes
But it's sad and it's sweet
And I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes"

Billy Joel lyrics from
"Piano Man"*

when I was very young
I wore Levi jeans and white
Hanes cotton T shirts
my mother bot me,
my feet, Ked clad, red
from the kid's "department" store
on Central Avenue,
the Main Street of my small town

when I was a young lad,
I wore workingman's cargo jeans and
white Hanes cotton T shirts
under red plaid
wooly shirts, itchy affairs,
that I bot for myself
in a real Army Navy store,
desert colored suede boots,
laced up high,
upon my feet

when I was of middling years,
my jeans were khaki pants,
Gap supplied,
and my Gap T shirts,
faded like me,
a non-descript color,
made in a gap of pale pastel colors
from Bangladesh or Vietnam,
pale pastel, like me

so as I slide~decline into
my nursing home years,
I wear unbranded jeans and
white cotton no name T shirts
with matching white disposable slippers,
that the Purchasing Department
bot for me, cause they know,
I like,

a younger man's clothes and
the memories that play all day
lost in day dreaming of a life
well dressed

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