" Frightening Freedoms "

February 12, 2018

Clawing at my childhood/

Grasping to still hear/

Those rustling dishes in the morning/

And the smell of fried dumplings/

And the tart taste of citrus./

But I turn my head and see/

A cap and gown adorned with gold/

Friends crying out of right eyes /

And parents crying out of left ones/

It's so near to me/

I don't even remember what it felt like/

To feel bored and irresponsible./

So near and close/

Almost like I can touch /

The taste of frightening freedom

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.