Tell me your own name first, then I would tell you mine, the tot at the left said. Ok, Im John but you can call me Uncle John, okay? So now whats your name? The stranger persisted. Me? I dont have a name! She exclaimed. I know what youre thinking Wow, smart tot!. Yeah, Id be in a hurry to re-type that in block letters. That tot is 18 today (And Sammie, I wont put sadly next to that statement). So after rolling on my bed restlessly at the wee hours of this morn, I decided to write ME a poem. Narcissistic much? I dont really care. Isnt that one of the perks of being 18? When will I wear bras Or color my bed red, like Kambili? When will I darken my brows Or run some color on my lips? Time refused to fly. Oswald told her, then: To and fro, to and fro... The world whirls by... North turns South East becomes West Ery 17 revolutions of earth, Her brows, she darkened, She was Kambili, Did time fly? O! Time! Could thy not have walked? Seconds, minutes, hours, Could thy not have crawled? Im indeed glad for this day; actually grateful for life ans sustenance. Im eighteen but still a teen (lol). I could be thrown behind bars, if I violate the law *slight giggle* and yeah, no more But momma, Im just a child! *laughs* I may not like the idea of growing older, but sometimes I catch a chic taunting the lie. ?
Posted on: Thu, 02 Oct 2014 08:02:54 +0000
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