Sixteen.
It's only several days away from me.
It's a hard pill to swallow.
I'm scared.
16 years without any importance.
Sixteen.
No significance.
No growth.
Stuck with the mindset of a child.
Wish I were wiser.
Wish I could fit in.
Wish I wasn't turning 16.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Suicide...
Poetry(#12 in Poetry- 3/5/17 |14 in Poetry- 2/28/17 |23 in Poetry- 11/18/16) Have you ever considered picking up a pen and writing to the one you fear most? Well, that's what I've done. When I write to my fears, It's oddly satisfying, because I know that...