Tue, 01/07/2014 - 16:13 -- ktalbot

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.


No one



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.


Thank you for taking the time to read and comment your feedback. It truly means a lot to me. 

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