Growing up is a strange feeling.
A mix of wanting to heal the child that you left behind, the one who played within the fields of wildflowers and never cared about the thought of getting older. And a mix of succumbing to the ideals of this strange world that makes you be something that you're not.
Sometimes I wish that we could just turn back the clock, or at least slow it down for the day to let us all catch our breaths.
But it doesn't work like that so I try to make the most of it all but I find myself grieving what could have been instead of loving what is.
YOU ARE READING
META
PoetryWhen the metamorphosis came, I was not ready. Change is not easy, when you're too young. My brand new wings sprouted from behind me, it burned like hell, but I stayed strong. There was people that needed me, dreams that I needed to complete. I could...
