Adulthood
I'm being weak.
Writing words for no one to read.
Because no one wants to know
how a child that is now
a not-so-adult-like adult
that isn't ready for adulthood
that grew up too fast
that wants to go back but can't
and no one understands
that there should be more time,
that there should've been more time
if I would've,
if I could've.
There is no use in trying to talk to someone
that doesn't understand.
So there is no use in talking.
To anyone.
Because
No one
understands.
Comments
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Adara Vidalia
I can feel emotion and strain in this poem. I recognize it from my memories...
I love how everything tells the story; the words, the font (that may or may not have been on purpose), the format of the words and sentences. I've just finished a literature class and this looks like one of the poems we would have read and studied and discussed in class. But all that discussion wouldn't have added anything to the message; in fact, I think it would have taken away from it.
I have a feeling that only those who have experienced comparable emotions will understand--or come close to understanding--this poem's message.