Soon You Will Learn

Soon you will learn

That there's so much to learn,

That life is much more

Than the books you return

To a library you hide in

And can't ever protect you

Like the loving arms

Of someone you're close to.

 

Soon you will learn

That you're much more

Than the money you earn,

The clothes you wear

On a body that's terribly harmed

When you try to compare

To a model in a picture

Who's been photoshopped to death,

While you're wasting time,

Spending time in worthless attempts,

Of becoming someone who's worse than

Who you truly are.

 

Soon you will learn

That you don't need someone

To love who you are.

But when you find someone

Who gives you pride in being

Such outstanding individual,

Who makes a frown into a smile,

Wipes your tears when they fall,

Gives you time, while

Their own time is slipping away;

Then you've found someone who

Doesn't make you,

But completes you.

Like a puzzle full of pieces.

Then maybe you will have learned

Just a bit of what's love,

Just a bit of what's life.

 

People devote all their time

To make up for the time.

Going to college,

Getting a job,

Having children, 

Avoiding the slob

Of a life their parents would shame.

 

Children drudge in their rooms,

To memorize the many books

For the class next morning,

In a school that outlooks

The true value they hold,

Above the grades

And all the prizes

Of a 4.0 student

Who's terrified of losing

Dignity as someone

Who's not a doctor or a lawyer;

Who's dead when they're done

Desperate to earn a simple dollar.

 

Soon you will learn

That the time you have here,

Is not about learning

All you possibly can,

But learning what you must

To become the leading man,

Of a crowd full of empty shells

That long for the same

Empty conquests they claim.

 

Soon you will learn

That all those mistakes,

The broken hearts,

The wrong loves,

The nights of sorrow,

The pitiful people

Who made you miserable

And shadowed your joy

Were simply blockheaded victims

Of a world that's been lost in the myst

Of wrong values,

Of hatred and fear,

Of a shallow

Wasteland surfaced by an atmosphere

Made of foul existence

And terrible despair.

 

Soon you will learn

That words mean nothing,

That actions speak louder

Than the loving syntax of poetry.

Which holds you hostage of the meaning

Of utopian possibilities

That have been desired and created

But won't seem to come true.

As the time that's been wasted

Wasn't actually wasted on you.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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