Twenty-five and still a child.
We are always welcome and yet, we've been capped.
You are home, apparently not.
I love you, you are an amazing person, but...
Always, BUT...
You want me to be happy...
I'm finally happy.
You try your best to make me unhappy.
Yes, I'm Twenty-five, yes I live at home.
But I am Twenty-five and I'm an adult.
You don't get to decide what I can and can't do.
And yet you try your very best.
I'm Twenty-five and apparently...
Still a child.
YOU ARE READING
Life is a Bitch
PoetryJust a journal. Someone once said write it all down, you'll feel better. So I did. Warning, may contain triggers ⚠️ Most impressive ranking #284 in Poetry ©Copyright Chelsea Anne Ferguson
