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Do you get it?
Life
You don't get it.
Boys
You don't get it.
Math
You don't get it.
Responsibility
You don't get it.
Maturity
You don't get it.
Being told you "don't" so many times,
It makes you want to rhyme.
But I get it. You see,
I get that your an adult.
I get that you work hard.
I get that sometimes I'm not responsible.
I get that I'm not fully mature.
I get that I make mistakes.
I get that your heart, it breaks.
As you hear these words leave my mouth.
Your thinking that my thoughts of you are falling south.
But you don't get it.
I care.
But you don't get it.
I love you.
But you don't get it.
I want the relationship I was supposed to have with my mother with you.
I hope you get that
Because your love, it keeps me going.
And it keeps these written words flowing.
The structure, my new home, has more love then I need.
And I was the seed.
You helped me grow.
Now life,
I get it.
Now boys,
I get them.
Now math,
You sure as heck know I get it because you, were the one who taught me.
Taught me to be who I am today.
Responsibility, I'm slow learning,
And my heart, its burning.
Because it full.
Full of life, and love.
And its bursting open right in front of you.
Because I'm learning
Maturing.
I get it.
Caring.
I get it.
Loving.
I get it.
You taught me, to get it.
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Well, I for one, have.
And it was my number one pet peeve.
I have been living with my aunt and uncle for about 3 years now. And boy, let me tell you, My aunt and I never got along.
Because we were exactly the same.
We both liked the feeling of being right.
And not giving up.
I've learned that I need to keep my mouth shut and agree sometimes.
But anyways, this poem is obviously written about, or too, my aunt. Even though she thinks I don't pay attention to her advice, or her critiquing, I listened and learned. Took mental notes if you must say. I love her to bits and pieces. But she didn't know that. Because I have trouble opening up. But that's another poem for another day. Poetry is my way of showing her that I care. Enough said? I think so.