Growing Up

Growing up,

Three years old. The time I didn't understand.

All I wanted was Sunset Orange to scribble within my right hand.

Never wondered what life was whatever I ought to seek.

Growing up,

Eight years old. Standing by the street selling lemonade.

I can sing all twenty-six letters and passed the first grade.

Starting to ponder what is life awaiting me.

Growing up,

Thirteen years old. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Parents saying when they were younger they’re just like me.

My apple had a screen tap.

Confused, Curious, Clueless of what follows down Life's path.

My bodies growing. Hormones? What is that?!

What is my purpose?

Growing up,

Fifteen years old, going with the flow.

Having a group of friends, not having my Glow.

I was blind. Starting to see

What I get in life only up to me,

I’m not here for the fashion show, I want my  Glow.

Growing up,

Eighteen years old, living in the present day.

Running races, 4.1 GPA, that's me!

No longer blind, having so much to say,

Embracing Life's Brilliant, Bare, Benevolent Beauty.

Growing up,

No.

I'm Grown up.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741