I always thought that I was mature for my age.

In class, while kids talked, I always stayed engaged.

I got a wake-up call one day in Global History.

I found out our happy world was filled with misery.

That day I did not make it to class on time.

After gym, I had to walk; I was tired and couldn't climb.

I greeted my teacher, who was used to my delay.

She had an eye-opening assignment for us that day.

"Today," she told the class "we'll learn about genocide."

That day, I learned about the ways in which millions had died.

I chose the Armenian - during World War I.

The more I read, I thought "There's more to life than having fun."

I read and wrote about the murders and indoctrination.

I complained about lunch while kids faced starvation.

From that day on, I appreciated the things I had.

Compared to other kids, my life is not that bad.

So, whenever life is hard and I'm feeling the blues.

I know someone is out there, wanting to be in my shoes.

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