mature

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long ago, once upon a time  without a worry in the world I knew life would be just fine as I grew and as I learned  all of a sudden I had more concerns that really scared me at first
Why couldn't the other kids notice? Why couldn't they see the ugliness that was beyond the playground?  Why was it that only she could see that her mother was crying, alone, and tired?   
The reflection in the pond of the five flowers that bloomed on the bank displayed like towers to my floor level frame.   Surrounded by the dirt and decomposed, and the water swamping my sorrowed leaves
I am by Christopher White   I am a fisherman with a rod I hear the water beating the soft rocks that lie in streams
They say the Apple doesn't fall far from the tree, But I have tried so hard to just be free. Trapped in the life that was killing me.
There I was A little girl Who did not know What life would bring   I used to wonder
When You dig a hole, where does the dirt go? And do You dig it fast or do You dig it slow? In the end, a hole is a hole But once You are in, it is time to console.   To get out of the hole, here is a clue:
Under my shirt is my skin under my skin is my heart under my heart, boiling water an ocean above flames.   The fuel, words a combination they call poetry metaphors and similes
Engraving on the hilt inlaid with gold Newly daubed with tar of flesh and bone A ruddy smearing on the blade Tearing ‘tween muscle, marrow A carving of the heart
I was told actions speak louder than words But few recognize how words twist the soul Some I hear have connotations absurd And I wonder if it's really their goal   To guilt others into pleasing them
back in the day we used to pray today you say it ought not be that way back in the past was a blast you see today I'm as a mouse stuck in a maze getting stuck inside its cage
I wish things were differently I wish I can hit your line I wish time was right  But time isnt mine  I wonder every night  I wonder what might you think I wonder about life
He said he loved me so I lied my head, pop my back ,spreading my legs hopping he gave me more then a promise but something worth belie
I was wondering... 1.      Do I really only have two followers who are interested in talking to me? 2.      Do I not post enough? 3.      Do I seem like a nuisance? 4.      Am I one?
As a seed we learn and soak in experiences and hurt. Our growth is formed solely in our direction whether we follow the light of the sun or the dark of the room. But to learn in the right we must be taught by another.
Childish days begin to fade As everything begins to change And I cannot remain the same   My friends are becoming so strange Obsessed with proving they're mature And letting their youth estrange
It began like any other day at the office,
I'm tired of pretending I'm happy. I'm tired of pretending I'm okay. I'm tired of pretending I don't care, when there's so much more I could say. I'm crying out, but no one hears.
All in all I'm pretty good I listen and learn as I should. But I'm far from mature So you can be sure That I'll giggle when you say touch wood.
Childhood sky is full of stars, But when you get adult, Wherever you look, You see some clouds.
I am exhausted; Tired of all of the childish games, The bickering, The lying, The constant putting down Of anyone That crosses your path, That gets in your way – No matter who they are
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