You say
I am only a teenager
That
I don't know what I'm writing,
As I pour my soul onto paper.
You critisize
The metaphors I use,
Though you'll never know
The metaphors mean you
You say
I don't have
any experience with life yet,
Therefore,
I should not, and cannot write this
You say
I am only this, I am only that
Never though,
do you say,
I am only yours
You bore me,
And raised me,
Always encouraged me to write...
Just not about this
Not about who I am
Not about who you are.
This poem was not written,
for the right reasons at all
It was written out of spite.
I look up,
And a smile appears
As relief flows to my heart,
Because you are not
And never will be in the audience.
Over the years,
I have not grown closer,
But pulled away from you.
I know who you are
And who you've always been
I will not cling to you,
as you tell me,
I am only
Just go ahead
and finish the statement
I am only a life...
And that life is mine