As I Grow Older

As we grow older we realize there's always a name to a face

We no longer look behind the eyes or into the soul

to find a personality or trait.

But rather judge by age, color, and race.

The "I Have a Dream" speech has been already read

Everyone is equal, that's what everyone said. 

But in reality, we're really not.

My internal cuts have already bled.

"You know my name not my story" 

That's the usual case, but for me,

do they even know my name?

It's no longer a "name to a face" 

but it's a "that girl" or a point my way.

As I grow older, my group of friends get smaller

I don't even know my true friends anymore. 

It's pretty obvious to why I'm so shy and soft spoken

not so much when I say that I'm broken.

Can I take this mask off once and for all

Or wake up fom this dream, or morelike nightmare.

I don't want to feel like this for the rest of my life. 


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 for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741