Oftentimes pity myself
Embarrassement on itself
Freedom nowhere to be seen
When has it even been
But i have hope left
Don't partake in theft
That's what they say
While i am playing with clay
Considered immature
Who cares when mature
When it's seen as a threat
To be eighteen in debt
Soon will be my turn
Maybe i'll burn
Always hope
Life is dope
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Author:
Cerise (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 17th, 2026 13:48
- Comment from author about the poem: (This is a pretty experimental one , haven't posted a few days and that's what came out for todayy (: )
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
Offline)
Comments2
A poem of time and its passage and how that affects each. Nicely done
Every time I read of you cerise
You appear to be taking self inventory
A very positive trait
No matter how often you get put down your hope shines through
Enjoying your writing
Keep em coming
Goodness , this means so much to me you have no idea, thanks for your comment and for appreciating my poetry (:
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