Lesson 28
I forget, at times, I’m not 18anymore, but then I start to cry
thinking of the wounds I’ve since carried
which makes me remember my age.
When I’m happy, I feel 18,
16 even, and sometimes 9,
but the wounds then ache, and I remember
I’m 28 and growing older still.
I was a clear pane of glass.
I started to crack I don’t know when,
and although there are certain parts
of me you can see through. It’s not the same.
Poetry by Sameen
Read 136 times
Written on 2024-11-03 at 15:10
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