Hi! 🙂 This is a poem I wrote at around about 12/13. It’s not perfect, but it was a great outlet for my feelings at the time.

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They told me to play barefoot on grass,

Enjoy the happiest days of my life,

Have little care about the future,

We have it all planned for you,

Just take that ball and score the goal before old age tackles you.

Was there ever room on the field for me or just the other team?

They told me to cast my role in the play,

I obliged willingly,

A mask to hide behind on stage,

Chose a name out of the few available,

Ignorant to the dividing line,

Another way to gain control,

Should I have written my own lines, even settled for none at all?

They told me to choose a side,

A small bird sang a song in my ear,

Telling me the path leading to justice above fear,

Feeding me the worms from the garden until it was time to leave the nest,

Should I have flown South rather than West?

They told me they knew how to cure night time obsessions,

For life is short and the sun will soon set,

There’s not enough time to gaze at the moon,

Enjoy the last colours before they hide eternally,

Is the light of the night a sweet breakthrough?

And after all it’s hard to tell if I’m me underneath all these meaningless movements or if I’m just fragments of them,

Formed to be the mirror image of all that I’ve seen,

But deep down feeling like an anomaly.

Told the idealistic dream of free thought as a child,

As they sharpen the knives behind my back,

No longer able to tell black from white,

Breaking through from a numb fantasy,

Is this life trailing behind real…

Or a series of illusions?

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