Stop

April 23, 2009
By BananaRama BRONZE, Bedford, Massachusetts
BananaRama BRONZE, Bedford, Massachusetts
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The world rushes past me,
Like a speeding bullet shot out of a gun.
Stop.

The trees rush by me as I run down the path.
Moving fast, a blur of green.
Stop.

People chatter, washing the day away.
Wasting their precious minutes.
Stop.

The life of a pre-teen, speeding by her.
Every minute that passes, each second that is gone. The life, my life.
Stop.

When will this charade end?
When will the stress diminish, the chaos end?
Stop.

That’s what I say. That’s what I think,
What I do, what I breathe in every minute, every second of each day.
Stop.

Stop the clock from ticking,
Stop the seconds form slipping right through my fingers.
Stop.

Just stop already.
Come to a halt. Relax. Just,
Stop.

The author's comments:
This poem shows the stress and pressure that can take over a teenager's life and thoughts. It shows a wish; a wish to be able to halt the clock for a moment, and take a breath.

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