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#adults
Since you never came when I commanded you to come, You barely came, you barely called. Today you came late, never on time Nonetheless, I’m glad you came. You arrive like a morning star, My wish finally granted. Your eyes, an eclipse, Lighting up my mood. Your body, a warm temple, Ready to be praised. Come on top of the bed, I’ll come on top of you. Since you came and I came, The world is at peace. Let’s cuddle, kiss, and talk. I’m sorry I called too early or too late. I’m sorry I came too early or too late. Let’s make this phenomenal. Let’s just come together. Let’s ride, let’s fly together. Yell my name before you come, I’ll shout yours before I come, And I promise I’ll come on time. Just promise me, you’ll always come.
0
Dec 29, 2025
Dec 29, 2025 at 7:15 AM UTC
Love Came Early
I don’t want to be revulsed, I don’t want to fear I don’t want to hate, I don’t want to regret I don’t want to stew in jealousy, I wish for success I wish for happiness, I wish for kindness I wish for peace, I wish for love I long to spread it all, To the rich and poor To the children and adults, To the fortunate To the unfortunate, To the lucky and unlucky All the sorrow in this world, All the joy in this world I long to help all, I long to aid those who need Those who yearn, Those who wish, Those who hope, I wish for all
0
Oct 27, 2025
Oct 27, 2025 at 9:10 AM UTC
Wish
10-17-25 nyc ><<><> recently, had occasion to dine out at The Shed^ which necessitates safe Passage past Dylan's^ Candy, where everything, including the effusively happy sales personnel, who implore you politely, "try everything!that's new in the store" however. this contradicts two main principles, when losing self control, cost be ****** (nothing is cheap here), and every candy of your childhood is offered up by weight, and sufficient sufficiently small bags, but truly big enough to do plenty damage, encourage grabbing two handfuls de min-mas, that holiday, of each of your childhood taste buds memory buds going going gone!r haywire Will not reveal what we went home with, more than four bags full; other than to say the munching began when we climbed into a taxi to take us to our dark webbed homeward~hiding places Do not ask me how much I spent, this factoid is currently unknown to me, for the time being, As I chose not to look when the " receipt" was proffered, but the devil and his due May miss an appointment or two, but All tallies, CC CONSUMED, all calorie counts must be recorded to account for the strange variations in your imMoral behavior not to mention your – disscaling, "weigh yourself before any consummation of consumption!" that morn event calendar prophetic, informs is resident in the waiting room of the early mourning to mock you with an upside crooked smiley face, and if you should own a scale that talks to you, like/lie, mine does, one detects the tone of opprobrium, sneeringly delivered so I too ask? Where is the poem my fine grown-up child? How do I express my self – loathing, the undoable unknowing, that we very grown-up adults, weary from endless to do lists and chains of responsibility, completion of a task, that dawns upon your overloaded compass of healthy living, when appily obliterated in pen, the no! no! necessitated, and additional two more; if only we had beads to count those might be my numbing mumbling be, surely much more pleasantly But I do not;  and more astounding than the delicious Taste of giant jellybeans in unusual flavorss, is my Amazement at the incredible ease, with which I discarded My adult disguise today, I contemplate a visit to the playground, where slides too narrow,  for adult rears, and climbing challenges a-bound, likely broken bones are now a much more likely, dreaded consequence But I must write this poetry, without reservation, Confessing my guilt to the entire world of nations, I consulted the United Nations who only asked me where such treats were readily available, even after the bedtime hour of most good children and reprobates who possess a credit card expense account the ease with which I digressed from my guru's summary and profoundly wizzy wisdom nuggets, ill disturbs the remaining ruins of my complacency, challenging me to never return and never forget... this is not the first lapse, and if I decided on Hail Mary's, or my chest to pound, Vidui^^  style of  Yom Kippur, while reciting the liturgy of the of all the sins not permitted, inescapably, confrontationally, I would see Gluttony, be listed, with no white spaces between the lines and no spaces within to hide, This poem would still be written… I summoned up from my file, all my addictions, Crimes I've committed, most of which I have not been found Guilty thereof, other than in the mind, which washes them clean nightly (hence the record-keeping, less we forget) Is this a poem? Perhap, I cannot care; it is the The Amazing Ease Equatorial line, which I crossed over    the sin no more line, veterinary a moments consideration,    that shocks me, and begs me to confront my absence *When the would be, used to be, adults    are in the candy store* They say, tying a little red string about your index finger can often improve helpful in restraining this youthful vigor of overlooking and forgetting; sadly I have no red thread and if such exists in this abode, I do not wish to know So this is my confessional, having requested all the leftovers Be distributed to our young grand niece and nephew, Please spell spare me that guilty accusation, For I have already added it to the list with serious nat-known-no!tationals I-am> , I-was> the adult   in the room,   the human child...ageless and faceless   in the Candy Store and the venality of my grievous erroring, not~now appears on my notifications and reminders, at random times. in case the child cries out begging for the grown up version of forgiveness, absolution
0
Oct 17, 2025
Oct 17, 2025 at 11:19 AM UTC
Adults in the Candy Store
10-17-25 nyc ><<><> recently, had occasion to dine out at The Shed^ which necessitates safe Passage past Dylan's^ Candy, where everything, including the effusively happy sales personnel, who implore you politely, "try everything!that's new in the store" however. this contradicts two main principles, when losing self control, cost be ****** (nothing is cheap here), and every candy of your childhood is offered up by weight, and sufficient sufficiently small bags, but truly big enough to do plenty damage, encourage grabbing two handfuls de min-mas, that holiday, of each of your childhood taste buds memory buds going going gone!r haywire Will not reveal what we went home with, more than four bags full; other than to say the munching began when we climbed into a taxi to take us to our dark webbed homeward~hiding places Do not ask me how much I spent, this factoid is currently unknown to me, for the time being, As I chose not to look when the " receipt" was proffered, but the devil and his due May miss an appointment or two, but All tallies, CC CONSUMED, all calorie counts must be recorded to account for the strange variations in your imMoral behavior not to mention your – disscaling, "weigh yourself before any consummation of consumption!" that morn event calendar prophetic, informs is resident in the waiting room of the early mourning to mock you with an upside crooked smiley face, and if you should own a scale that talks to you, like/lie, mine does, one detects the tone of opprobrium, sneeringly delivered so I too ask? Where is the poem my fine grown-up child? How do I express my self – loathing, the undoable unknowing, that we very grown-up adults, weary from endless to do lists and chains of responsibility, completion of a task, that dawns upon your overloaded compass of healthy living, when appily obliterated in pen, the no! no! necessitated, and additional two more; if only we had beads to count those might be my numbing mumbling be, surely much more pleasantly But I do not;  and more astounding than the delicious Taste of giant jellybeans in unusual flavorss, is my Amazement at the incredible ease, with which I discarded My adult disguise today, I contemplate a visit to the playground, where slides too narrow,  for adult rears, and climbing challenges a-bound, likely broken bones are now a much more likely, dreaded consequence But I must write this poetry, without reservation, Confessing my guilt to the entire world of nations, I consulted the United Nations who only asked me where such treats were readily available, even after the bedtime hour of most good children and reprobates who possess a credit card expense account the ease with which I digressed from my guru's summary and profoundly wizzy wisdom nuggets, ill disturbs the remaining ruins of my complacency, challenging me to never return and never forget... this is not the first lapse, and if I decided on Hail Mary's, or my chest to pound, Vidui^^  style of  Yom Kippur, while reciting the liturgy of the of all the sins not permitted, inescapably, confrontationally, I would see Gluttony, be listed, with no white spaces between the lines and no spaces within to hide, This poem would still be written… I summoned up from my file, all my addictions, Crimes I've committed, most of which I have not been found Guilty thereof, other than in the mind, which washes them clean nightly (hence the record-keeping, less we forget) Is this a poem? Perhap, I cannot care; it is the The Amazing Ease Equatorial line, which I crossed over    the sin no more line, veterinary a moments consideration,    that shocks me, and begs me to confront my absence *When the would be, used to be, adults    are in the candy store* They say, tying a little red string about your index finger can often improve helpful in restraining this youthful vigor of overlooking and forgetting; sadly I have no red thread and if such exists in this abode, I do not wish to know So this is my confessional, having requested all the leftovers Be distributed to our young grand niece and nephew, Please spell spare me that guilty accusation, For I have already added it to the list with serious nat-known-no!tationals I-am> , I-was> the adult   in the room,   the human child...ageless and faceless   in the Candy Store and the venality of my grievous erroring, not~now appears on my notifications and reminders, at random times. in case the child cries out begging for the grown up version of forgiveness, absolution
Continue reading...
107
today I looked at my mom and saw the little girl beneath, the little girl just like me, trying to make it through life, pretending to be grown.
0
Apr 11, 2025
Apr 11, 2025 at 7:25 AM UTC
the little kids
Everyone knows children are usually pure of heart Moreover, their creativity is almost impossible to beat So, we should listen to the child within us Let flow a vast pool of ideas Pouring back and forth from every corner of the mind Remember, a child is most willing to bend This allows him/her to think out of the box Thereby significantly increasing the chances of success We must be free and secure, like a child Even when we grow old This way, we can always be happy Even when we don't get our way Which will happen a number of times An adult mind is complex Which often leads him/her to overthink And once we begin to overthink We will get trapped in a vicious circle And in our demons' court, will be the ball Thus, we will be in a perennial state of anxiety Even if we embody honesty and integrity Hence, it is important to encourage the child within us And follow our instincts Well, maybe not all the time But at least from time to time Because, the child represents freedom An escape from boredom And most importantly, flexibility Which leads to more positivity And helps get ride of the clutter in our minds So essential for achieving inner peace Hence, I will say it once and for all In the child's court, should be the ball!
0
Mar 19, 2025
Mar 19, 2025 at 11:41 AM UTC
The Importance Of The Child Within Us
Eyes on me Ones that I can clearly see It gets creepy once I notice multiple of them Look, I know I'm pretty but that's a bit too far I see your eyes trained on me As if you were a nasty beast Ready to pounce on your prey It makes it weird since all of them are eyes of a adult Making me more uncomfortable Following me to my car Following me to my home Following me afar Following me til I roam Unsettling They all seem to have lust in their eyes Looking at me up and down They ain't doing it with a frown Leave me alone Just a young 12 year old minding my business If you have a certain bone Don't talk to me Simple
0
Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 11:17 PM UTC
Adults
My world is ablaze The sky is on fire I scream for you now, Please help me, it’s dire Yet your answer is clear With no other way The ending is near And I know what you’ll say “Relax, my dear daughter, for it’s only a phase”
0
Nov 8, 2024
Nov 8, 2024 at 12:11 AM UTC
Why do you never listen?
Shadows stay and shadows fight. Much like how young ones love flight, either up in trees or high in sky Much like how teenagers have to lie, either to protect their mind or to hide Much like how adults learn to have pride either in themselves or for others Much like how the old have druthers either for hope of all or the freedom of death, and to exhale a dying breath. so stay or fight, for I'll find my own light.
0
Nov 28, 2023
Nov 28, 2023 at 10:38 AM UTC
My own Path
Watch muh din yung larong 90s sa fb sis @Sahlee Sicio and for sure you may catch ..... Jakston--  ganyan yung libangan ko nung una kong matutunan yung unang *beses akong makaranas na mangapitbahay😁 magmula nun akuh ay natutong makipaglaro sa paruparo at tipaklong 😅🤣😂 banda roon sa may madamong bakuran na trinato kong palaroan kasi nga walang mga talahib, malayo sa panganib. And... By the time you reaches it in your searches ... share here , or somewhere out there .
0
Feb 10, 2024
Feb 10, 2024 at 2:04 PM UTC
" ipad kids "
Since I'm old enough to understand adult jokes -- they're disappointing.
0
Jun 12, 2023
Jun 12, 2023 at 1:58 AM UTC
[ Since I'm old enough ]
Nowhere can it be safe anymore, look: adults -- too can cry a lot!
0
Apr 16, 2023
Apr 16, 2023 at 3:30 AM UTC
[ Nowhere can it be ]
When I grew out of my adolescence I lost my crippling thrist to write I stopped cutting myself in my early 20's; just like the research articles said I would Disorder direction, however, was not the cause of my coping correction I moved away from rampant tantrums Sliding down the slope of sufferance I used to write to externalize my internal desperation My frustration with the life I was given* *(Certainly not the choices I've made) Over a decade of time has aged me From a helpless girl, to an impassive woman Submissive to circumstance Now, I chain bricks to my ankles And throw myself in the sea of apathy I will not expend the energy to care, but rather intentionally strive for indifference In doing so, I sacrifice my desire to write… Losing desperation makes me hollow Then again, helplessness is for children. I am a woman now. I no longer crave the ability to describe my emotions Asking for help is not a viable option anymore I've tried that long enough
0
May 17, 2022
May 17, 2022 at 9:50 PM UTC
Adulting
long stretches of disappointing time have turned you blind to your dreams X well, in this time i have grown my vision now i play life’s game with better timing and precision O blind as you are you’ll trip on your past convictions flat on your face, full of regret X i pray i don’t become blind the older i get O resume to live by my unwise heart manoeuvre to where my unsure mind sees best O and this is how i see i’ll win, where you have lost, in the cruel game of life O (3 O’s in a row. I win!) or is my youth my fall X and i’m unawarely walking down the same blinding path as you X will i see that i’m blind life has got me outplayed and i lost? X
0
Apr 13, 2022
Apr 13, 2022 at 4:51 PM UTC
X’s and O’s
Remember that summer when it was dry and heavy but in the evening the breeze would gently sway the smoke of your cigarette in my hand when you were trying to teach me how not to choke And I remember coughing and laughing it off with you, how smoke had always been around me but my lungs were funny 'bout this direct approach And we talked 'bout everything from heartbreak, to lovers, to family And I truly felt wonder at the simplicity of those moments and how much they meant to me So much I look back to them now when it's winter and I'm alone missing your warmth, your voice and itching for a smoke
0
Jan 17, 2022
Jan 17, 2022 at 12:48 PM UTC
Season Smoke
In my experience, most adults have “vanity walls”, usually in their offices, where they hang diplomas, awards, certificates and important pictures. Most parents I know have them. I like to look carefully at those momentos - they’re like breadcrumbs tracing back through their lives. Some items are expected while others are extraordinary - like pictures of Lisa’s dad playing golf and laughing with famous people. “It’s a very particular kind of vanity.” Lisa’s dad said, from in back of me, from his office doorway. I almost jumped in surprise - I definitely flinched. I’d become so absorbed in examining his wall that I’d unconsciously inched into his space, like someone stealing into a closed museum exhibit. I flushed with embarrassment, ”No,” I said, making a hand gesture that swept the area. “I LOVE these kinds of things - I couldn’t resist - I’m sorry!” He made a “Pssshtt” sound and waved his hand, “You make yourself at home.” “I want to have a wall someday,” I said. He smilingly turned and with a little backward wave, said, “You will,” as he strolled off to the kitchen, leaving me to continue my tour. I will.
0
Nov 26, 2021
Nov 26, 2021 at 9:12 AM UTC
walls
Why so much violence Why can't we find peace Why are you protesting causing so much destruction is that really better ? Breaking windows spraying hate upon these walls Your destroying people's lives your turning our city into a ugly ****** up mess How does that get your message across ? Grow the **** up and look up protesting see it's meaning are you reading the meaning ? It's about using your voice and standing up Your all acting like brats hurting others acting like bullies that's not protesting your not getting attention Your getting us ****** off I hope you get to feel the damage your causing You belong in a cell Where you can't destroy and steal and throw temper tantrums Where you can't spread your ugliness and we can find peace and find our way ahead It has to stop your not proving anything I know you must be stopped it has to end it's no longer about race or hate It's about adults who are acting like children You need to learn the meaning of protesting You need to build others up and help people see there is a way forward So stop just stop We can handle this You need to be taught a lesson and karma will handle you soon I just hope sooner not later © Jennifer L DeLong 🦏 4/17/2021
0
Apr 17, 2021
Apr 17, 2021 at 9:20 AM UTC
Protesting
they may carry children with cotton-candy-tinted glasses, or adults who nudge the world to align with their visions, or the elderly who see a path of golden light ahead of them, or animals who always beam around their fellow humans, and... they carry children with shoulders that know the weight of the world or adults who see their dreams shattering all around them like a broken mirror, or the elderly who can only see gray clouds, wondering when the darkness will lift, or animals who are suffocated by the noise and crave the fresh air and blue skies. these vessels carry more stories than the number of stars in this infinite universe.
0
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 1:06 AM UTC
planes, trains, automobiles.
There was something wrong with the adults I always thought When I was young... when I was little The Grown Ups There was something, well something missing in them They seemed a bit preoccupied, a bit faraway by times, Maybe it was the great responsibility they had, looking after us Or running after us, we used run around a lot back then, Out on the beach under the big blue sky On our way out to meet the tide The wonderful colourful houses of the village seen from afar, With the big chapel on the hill And the lovely blue mountains of the headland sloping down to the sea We'd be lost in the joy and excitement of the moment, thinking "Isn't this wonderful, isn't it amazing, this thing called Life, Wow!!!" And Mom she'd be there with us, tagging along And on her face this kind of... kind of lonesome smile There seemed to be a great sadness in them somewhere They didn't seem to have the same joy that we had Etched on their faces was something else, something haunting Days of struggle and hardship... and pain. Their own parents had died when they were very young They used tell me, tell me gravely "One day, one day we won't be here son" And you'd go off to school feeling very tearful inside Hardly able to do your lessons, mulling over those terrible words, And at night in bed, you'd listen for their voices downstairs And if you couldn't hear them, you'd get up and sit on the landing listening intently for their spoken words So as to be reassured, that they were still there, That they hadn't gone away and left you.                       II The adults they loved  to sit and talk and drink tea We didn't like talking much, that was boring stuff (We liked the biscuits though) We wanted to be outside playing, up and about Yea! We wanted action and adventure instead Playing games, kicking football up the garden Running down the wing, shooting for goal, scoring! O! the thrill of it all, Or playing soldiers, cowboys and Indians Or down the beach among the rocks exploring Whereas we probably lived a lot still in our bodies And in the thrill of the moment (I remember I used talk to parts of my body when I was very little, when there was no one else around) The adults they seemed to live in their heads most of the time Locked away up there in their lonely towers Adults I suppose had decisions to make. Often Mom would find it hard to keep up with us We could get away with a lot of things with Mom But it was different though when Dad would come home Then the atmosphere in the house would change There'd be this strange tension The Dads they were strange ones They were like that Rodin sculpture "The Thinker" (a man bent over thinking) You'd watch them warily, and move around them very carefully and quietly You'd have to have your antenna switched on You didn't know which mood would be on them Whether they were going to be gentle or flare up like a firestorm. The Dads they used to drink beer and black stuff, the Guinness Sometimes they'd give us a sip Ugh...the taste of it, it'd give you the creeps You'd think " How do you drink that stuff and Why!!! It wasn't sweet like orange or lemonade It was another mystery, the strange world... the strange world of the adults. (Once while walking along the beach we came across this well dressed young man fast asleep behind the sea wall Lying on the cold ground, a few empty beer cans beside him Of course we didn't know yet about people getting drunk We were very puzzled at this scene, we looked at one another baffled Why did he want to sleep there for ? Did he not have a home to go to and a bed to sleep in ? What we were looking at was the World... the strange world of the adults). The Dads they were always watching the News and talking politics Once when we were on holiday down the country at our Auntie's place We were outside playing football While my Dad and Uncle were inside drinking and talking politics Arguing heatedly about who was right and who was wrong Suddenly they both appeared in the doorway, all smiles and strangely jolly like They said they wanted to join in, in our game Something they'd very rarely do I remember looking at them and thinking These people...these people are in pain I was so afraid they might fall and hurt themselves I thought them that fragile I was afraid to tackle them properly for the ball I thought I should only pretend Should let them win, let them score a goal "Maybe then," I thought, "maybe then they'd be happy".                           III They seemed to be always trying their best But being reined in by their limitations One Christmas I remember, I wanted things, exciting things, toy soldiers, electric cars, a toy gun They gave me this small model passenger plane, wasn't even a War plane (no fancy machine guns or rockets) And this cheap little plastic antique globe of the world thing I looked to see was there any treasure marked on it, but no! I was so disappointed, these were ****** presents, not what I wanted at all But when I looked in their faces, at the expectancy there Them expecting me to be overjoyed and delighted with what I'd got I felt this huge pity and sorrow for them, So I smiled back at them and pretended their presents, they were the best presents of all.                             IV There was this tragic sadness about them, the adults Almost like they weren't feeling the joy anymore, that for them the magic had gone out Like the little child within them had all but died You realized that what you were feeling was probably something they no longer felt They were off lost in some other world Overrun with cares and worries and fears   Yea, there was something wrong with the adults I always thought When I was young When I was small.
0
Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 5:20 PM UTC
(There's something wrong with) The Adults
There was something wrong with the adults I always thought When I was young... when I was little The Grown Ups There was something, well something missing in them They seemed a bit preoccupied, a bit faraway by times, Maybe it was the great responsibility they had, looking after us Or running after us, we used run around a lot back then, Out on the beach under the big blue sky On our way out to meet the tide The wonderful colourful houses of the village seen from afar, With the big chapel on the hill And the lovely blue mountains of the headland sloping down to the sea We'd be lost in the joy and excitement of the moment, thinking "Isn't this wonderful, isn't it amazing, this thing called Life, Wow!!!" And Mom she'd be there with us, tagging along And on her face this kind of... kind of lonesome smile There seemed to be a great sadness in them somewhere They didn't seem to have the same joy that we had Etched on their faces was something else, something haunting Days of struggle and hardship... and pain. Their own parents had died when they were very young They used tell me, tell me gravely "One day, one day we won't be here son" And you'd go off to school feeling very tearful inside Hardly able to do your lessons, mulling over those terrible words, And at night in bed, you'd listen for their voices downstairs And if you couldn't hear them, you'd get up and sit on the landing listening intently for their spoken words So as to be reassured, that they were still there, That they hadn't gone away and left you.                       II The adults they loved  to sit and talk and drink tea We didn't like talking much, that was boring stuff (We liked the biscuits though) We wanted to be outside playing, up and about Yea! We wanted action and adventure instead Playing games, kicking football up the garden Running down the wing, shooting for goal, scoring! O! the thrill of it all, Or playing soldiers, cowboys and Indians Or down the beach among the rocks exploring Whereas we probably lived a lot still in our bodies And in the thrill of the moment (I remember I used talk to parts of my body when I was very little, when there was no one else around) The adults they seemed to live in their heads most of the time Locked away up there in their lonely towers Adults I suppose had decisions to make. Often Mom would find it hard to keep up with us We could get away with a lot of things with Mom But it was different though when Dad would come home Then the atmosphere in the house would change There'd be this strange tension The Dads they were strange ones They were like that Rodin sculpture "The Thinker" (a man bent over thinking) You'd watch them warily, and move around them very carefully and quietly You'd have to have your antenna switched on You didn't know which mood would be on them Whether they were going to be gentle or flare up like a firestorm. The Dads they used to drink beer and black stuff, the Guinness Sometimes they'd give us a sip Ugh...the taste of it, it'd give you the creeps You'd think " How do you drink that stuff and Why!!! It wasn't sweet like orange or lemonade It was another mystery, the strange world... the strange world of the adults. (Once while walking along the beach we came across this well dressed young man fast asleep behind the sea wall Lying on the cold ground, a few empty beer cans beside him Of course we didn't know yet about people getting drunk We were very puzzled at this scene, we looked at one another baffled Why did he want to sleep there for ? Did he not have a home to go to and a bed to sleep in ? What we were looking at was the World... the strange world of the adults). The Dads they were always watching the News and talking politics Once when we were on holiday down the country at our Auntie's place We were outside playing football While my Dad and Uncle were inside drinking and talking politics Arguing heatedly about who was right and who was wrong Suddenly they both appeared in the doorway, all smiles and strangely jolly like They said they wanted to join in, in our game Something they'd very rarely do I remember looking at them and thinking These people...these people are in pain I was so afraid they might fall and hurt themselves I thought them that fragile I was afraid to tackle them properly for the ball I thought I should only pretend Should let them win, let them score a goal "Maybe then," I thought, "maybe then they'd be happy".                           III They seemed to be always trying their best But being reined in by their limitations One Christmas I remember, I wanted things, exciting things, toy soldiers, electric cars, a toy gun They gave me this small model passenger plane, wasn't even a War plane (no fancy machine guns or rockets) And this cheap little plastic antique globe of the world thing I looked to see was there any treasure marked on it, but no! I was so disappointed, these were ****** presents, not what I wanted at all But when I looked in their faces, at the expectancy there Them expecting me to be overjoyed and delighted with what I'd got I felt this huge pity and sorrow for them, So I smiled back at them and pretended their presents, they were the best presents of all.                             IV There was this tragic sadness about them, the adults Almost like they weren't feeling the joy anymore, that for them the magic had gone out Like the little child within them had all but died You realized that what you were feeling was probably something they no longer felt They were off lost in some other world Overrun with cares and worries and fears   Yea, there was something wrong with the adults I always thought When I was young When I was small.
Continue reading...
108
Adults turn schools into fortresses. ≠ Children frolic on the rooftops. Adults tape off the playground. ≠ Children dig underground hide-outs. Adults build moats round their friendships. ≠ Children have fun in the water. Adults dragoon them into bubbles. ≠ Children salsa with fairies. Children blow shapes out of laughter. ≠ Adults **** out the future.
0
Dec 28, 2020
Dec 28, 2020 at 5:11 PM UTC
Zero Sums
They clap our backs, nod their heads Look down and distant smile When we tug at their t-shirts And ask to be heard Their gazes wander, and block their ears Sneak a look at the television They sit us down, telling us to talk And in between, stand up when their phones ring They tell us that you will do great things some day That the world rests upon your hands You will climb to the top and pull each other up But keep pushing us down instead They tell us that you are the future And dive out of our thoughts They think it is an excuse For sizing us up, and declaring us not enough Not yet, they say. Not now, they murmur Have you ever thought that We don't want to be the future Because we need to be the present? That we don't want to lead the world But instead, just live in it? That before we want to do things that are great We just want to live in a world that is?
0
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 9:13 AM UTC
Not Now, Not Yet
It seems to me that as people get older they mature not like fine wine but getting more stale and more bitter with each passing year. Coffee, perhaps?
0
May 9, 2020
May 9, 2020 at 7:07 PM UTC
Maturing
I know you think I'm not enough to go out to the world But I might be young but I'm not a child And I might be reckless but I know where I'm headed I know that you're the way you are because you love me But you don't really get me And I'm not that kid anymore I've always been a dreamer though you couldn't tell by the music I play and you'd always tell me the world was a mess And I would change the way you saw space And I wish that you would show me who you are without all that pretense But in the end you're the one I can't lose And I'm the one who'll come back to you So can we talk another time Though we'll get nowhere But you'll still love me anyway And I love you for that.
0
May 4, 2020
May 4, 2020 at 11:12 AM UTC
Dear Mom
I know I’m meant to feel like the world is an oyster I have yet to crack, like the guts and savory things of life lie just beyond this seemingly impassable barrier of youth. I am meant to love myself to love others, expected to be grown up but humble; for I am a child in a room full of adults whose legs are trees and I am a sapling not tall enough to reach the rays of sunlight that are experience and wisdom. But how am I to grow if you keep me in the shade. When will I be tall enough if you starve me with words of discouragement, deny me the promise that something lies beyond the world I know now. How will I ever reach for the skies when you tell me this is the best it gets. That I should be grateful for the lack of responsibility I have. “Oh hush little sapling, you know nothing of the world beyond this grove.” But I know what it feels like to have storms sweep through, I have felt lightning on my skin as I witness injustice, and shameful rain as I stay rooted to the ground. I beg of you let me through! Part your branches so I may shoot forward into the sky, sing me songs of luck as I climb higher and higher, no longer sapling but great redwood, my skin may grow rough but I will grow richer; in all the things one needs for happiness. Rich in love. Rich in passion. Rich in character and empathy. I will relish those savory things of life as they spill out before me, work to catch them before they are swallowed up by the unfortunate decomposition that happens to all missed opportunities. And when you are tired and sunburnt, let me give you shade as you gave me, a great redwood child holding the sun up with her branches and the world down with her roots.
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Mar 9, 2020
Mar 9, 2020 at 11:04 PM UTC
redwood child
I know I’m meant to feel like the world is an oyster I have yet to crack, like the guts and savory things of life lie just beyond this seemingly impassable barrier of youth. I am meant to love myself to love others, expected to be grown up but humble; for I am a child in a room full of adults whose legs are trees and I am a sapling not tall enough to reach the rays of sunlight that are experience and wisdom. But how am I to grow if you keep me in the shade. When will I be tall enough if you starve me with words of discouragement, deny me the promise that something lies beyond the world I know now. How will I ever reach for the skies when you tell me this is the best it gets. That I should be grateful for the lack of responsibility I have. “Oh hush little sapling, you know nothing of the world beyond this grove.” But I know what it feels like to have storms sweep through, I have felt lightning on my skin as I witness injustice, and shameful rain as I stay rooted to the ground. I beg of you let me through! Part your branches so I may shoot forward into the sky, sing me songs of luck as I climb higher and higher, no longer sapling but great redwood, my skin may grow rough but I will grow richer; in all the things one needs for happiness. Rich in love. Rich in passion. Rich in character and empathy. I will relish those savory things of life as they spill out before me, work to catch them before they are swallowed up by the unfortunate decomposition that happens to all missed opportunities. And when you are tired and sunburnt, let me give you shade as you gave me, a great redwood child holding the sun up with her branches and the world down with her roots.
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A lost minor in the mall. An abused child in the house. A neglected boy in the world. A lost boy in Neverland. Big bad wolf, howling orders. Mummified monster, dry smiles. Frigid rigid winter yeti, ice embraces. General parent, straight salutes. House of dreams. Land of imagination. Kingdom of make-believe. Imagica, Fantasia, Traumland. An escape, a path, a relief. Hypnos, watch over him. Morpheus, bless him. Epiales, stay away. Where scars can't be seen, sticks and words can't hurt, wounds can't bleed. Only engels reside, erwachsene demons, be ****** Go back to Dante's hell, neun kreise, continue your corruption of the Earth. Your trauma killed them, their Träume saved them. At least, leave them free here. Melatonin, save them before it's too late. Hypnos has to come himself to put the kids to sleep, Lullaby. Twinkle, twinkle, lost boy, how I wonder how you are? Up above the hell so high, like an angel in the sky. My hope is for you all to reach land of your dreams. Lost boys, forever, be lost.
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Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 10:03 AM UTC
Lost Boys
I wish adults still understood what it was like to be our age because yes, I'm going through phases and relationships and change and I smell disgusting and I am going through depression and I am transgender and discovering what that means and learning what it means to be a person, something that some people never learn. I don't understand why the people who seem to care about me aren't the same people I want to visit constantly. I don't understand the concept of 'blood is thicker than water' when the full phrase is 'the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb' and why adults use this to their advantage. It's not unhealthy to want to have a social life and go hang out with people all the time. These are the same adults that say I don't get out much and need to hang out with people more often on the occasion that I'm not doing anything. The same adults that have convinced me that I need to go to college and simultaneously have fifty-plus years of experience for a decent paying company to employ me. The same adults who have given me such a crippling anxiety and fear of the unknown that I've cried multiple times over homework thinking that not being able to understand quadratic equations will be my undoing, that there's no way I'm going to college now. I am so terrified to not go to college, yet I find myself unable to think of what exactly I want to do. Rather than letting me figure it out eventually, I am being rushed into roles that I don't even understand yet. I am being scared shitless over things that I don't need to worry about for years. I am being convinced not to legally change my name until after college because otherwise my boomer aunt and uncle won't pay my college funds. It feels like I'm being forced back into the closet, forced into a career that I may or may not enjoy doing for the rest of my life, forced into both solitude and society according to my parent's terms, forced into something I don't understand. This is not consensual. This is far from okay.
0
Nov 26, 2019
Nov 26, 2019 at 6:56 PM UTC
What I Wish Adults Knew
I wish adults still understood what it was like to be our age because yes, I'm going through phases and relationships and change and I smell disgusting and I am going through depression and I am transgender and discovering what that means and learning what it means to be a person, something that some people never learn. I don't understand why the people who seem to care about me aren't the same people I want to visit constantly. I don't understand the concept of 'blood is thicker than water' when the full phrase is 'the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb' and why adults use this to their advantage. It's not unhealthy to want to have a social life and go hang out with people all the time. These are the same adults that say I don't get out much and need to hang out with people more often on the occasion that I'm not doing anything. The same adults that have convinced me that I need to go to college and simultaneously have fifty-plus years of experience for a decent paying company to employ me. The same adults who have given me such a crippling anxiety and fear of the unknown that I've cried multiple times over homework thinking that not being able to understand quadratic equations will be my undoing, that there's no way I'm going to college now. I am so terrified to not go to college, yet I find myself unable to think of what exactly I want to do. Rather than letting me figure it out eventually, I am being rushed into roles that I don't even understand yet. I am being scared shitless over things that I don't need to worry about for years. I am being convinced not to legally change my name until after college because otherwise my boomer aunt and uncle won't pay my college funds. It feels like I'm being forced back into the closet, forced into a career that I may or may not enjoy doing for the rest of my life, forced into both solitude and society according to my parent's terms, forced into something I don't understand. This is not consensual. This is far from okay.
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