born out of silver

years of your lives
devoted to making
ties of all the
loose ends we leave

you tell me that
my life will not be perfect
that no matter how much i
try or cry or ask for help
all i can do with the dream
is burn it

and listen now or never
take me to the paradise
where laughter's in the weather

trying to be me
alone in a world
me at thirteen
surrounded by an ocean
of plastic maturity

memory will never fail
but the moon will rise each night
and even if i think you harsh
i know you've taught me right

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem