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Danielle Crawford

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

1 poem·Since October 2013
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Same Teachers, Same Molding

October 29, 2013

Do you know what it's like?

Or have the waves of age wiped your memory...

Probably.

Age is like that.

Focus on the present, 

forget about the past. 

Lose yourself in the anonymity of adulthood

and don't look back.

"Become like us."

I don't want to grow up if that means

becoming like you.

You. All of you.

The filing of adults through a 

young, sweet, impressionable girl's

pathless and wandering life.

You're supposed to shape me,

shape my life,

my world.

Their worlds,

their lives,

you're supposed to shape them.

By changing your students lives,

you've adjusted them similarly.

Tweaking this, shifting that,

until we are all the same. 

We are shaped by the formless entity

to grow old

and become the formless entity.

We look like you, now.

The waves of age washing me clean of myself.

Focus on the present,

forget about the past.

"Become like us,"

we chant.

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