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The Burn
September 16, 2015
Momma used to tell me
That if I played with fire I’d get hurt
But what she doesn’t know
Is that I live for the burn
The burn of life
The sting of truth
The twinge of pain
Every time I move
Tell me, Momma,
What was I supposed to do?
You were never there for me
Do you even know what I went through?
No, you don’t.
You only worry about yourself
But now I refuse
To be set up on a shelf
They say I’ll be just like you
But I refuse to be
I will be a better person
I will be me
© Adeline N., Ridgefield, CT
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