The More You Know

Mon, 10/31/2016 - 14:11 -- emac532

What shaped me this year, I cannot explain.But something is different, I am not the same. I've listened in class, I know more now than I knew.Perhaps that is why I am feeling so blue. Knowledge can hurt, the more that you know.The more than I learn, the more that I grow. Silent am I, the less I am young.Holding my breath and biting my toungue. To see horror then, it bothered me not.To see horror now leaves me numb and distraught. When I hear of a bomb, my thoughts I don't cover.I think of the kids who have just lost their mothers. When I see a child, covered in red,their skin white with ash, their eyes filled with dread, I think of my niece, so tiny in my arms,And wonder what monster would ever cause her harm. I learned that each year, so many people die, but most of the people who do not survive, Are made up of children who aren't even five.    And many of the children who die premature,Die of diseases we'd be able to cure. I'm different this year, smarter I'm sure.A little more steady, a little less pure. Perfect grades on my transcript; smiling big, standing tall.But inside I am wishing I knew nothing at all. 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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