anonymous
I’m scared to grow old,
To live in a world this prone,
To raise my kids in parole,
Having no control.
Becoming who I am,
Is realizing who I was,
Boring, book driven dork,
With signs of remorse.
Somewhere afar,
Is a young girl trying to find hope,
Recognizing in this world,
Hope is just a word.
Isolated with no signs of promise,
Makes me wonder what the future holds,
Don’t cry too much, I whisper to molds,
Hoping one day this feeling unfolds.
Somewhere obscure from here,
Is what I wish to adore,
I’m scared to grow old,
To know what the future holds.
Elements Magazine 