I like how they pretend,
their cozy, warm hugs
while spitting at my back.
Their dove-soft voices
hiding inner curses.
Evening chatter and card games,
smiles laid out on the table,
while they quietly choose a story for me—
turn my life into an issue
they never helped raise.
I see them choke
on how easily I make friends,
through laughter-filled meetings,
that turn into real friendships,
It sits bitter on their tongues.
I like their concern,
the kind that wishes me bad,
while pretending to care,
I’m still a toddler,
learning how to take steps.
I fall,
I crawl,
I learn how to deal with people,
while barely understanding myself—
but I already know,
how to make a fist.
I survive by all means,
I choose silence,
I walk away.
Because we don’t cut bridges
when we don’t yet know,
what storm
is ahead.
-
Author:
imma isa kemmy (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 3rd, 2026 04:19
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments2
Many hold jealous thoughts in this world and being new one does not see the treachery and falseness held. A lovely write where the innocence of youth is both an advantage and disadvantage. Well done
thanks a lot
You are most welcome
My friend, I recognize this posture of learning while being watched, judged, and quietly undermined. The choice of silence and walking away reads as survival, not surrender. This resonates. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.