February 14, 2010
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This is me at seventeen

Where do I go from here?
I could escape the pain with a speeding train

That could get me there.
Or should I discuss a greyhound bus

To get me to some place?
I don’t need much, just a crutch

And a place to call home base.
Maybe I could find some love, heavenly, from above

That can make me feel like new.
Open arms, sparks and charms, and whispers

That say I love you.

This is me at seventeen

I don’t what I’ve become
A responsible student, tidy and prudent?

I couldn’t be; I’m too dumb
I feel as if I am not but a sham

A person not worth life.
I deserve a noose, there’s no excuse

Not to end this strife.
And through this ache, I’m not a fake,

Then I will continue on.
To somewhere I won’t be scared

Where the villains are all gone
This is me at seventeen

Not an adult, not a child.
A hybrid creation, an add sensation

One who is weird and wild.
What kind of sorrow will be in the morrow?

I hope it’s not too sad.
More responsibility breeds possibility

And for that I can be glad.
My life is young, my tale is unsung

Everything has yet to start
Life will be hard, but I’m not jarred;

I just need to follow my heart

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Miranda said...
Feb. 19, 2010 at 12:37 pm
Congrats Aliza, this is a really good poem.
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