Seventeen
Butterflies is what he gave me.
Baby flutters is what grew in my tummy.
Butterflies from her big brown eyes.
Just her and I.
Heads to the sky.
We move forward, and strive to be better.
I want her to have better.
I want her to know that I would give the world for her.
Just a teen.
Only seventeen.
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
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.
Log in to leave a comment.