Sat, 08/29/2015 - 23:04 -- Alex_M

Nothing special,

till you remember

when you were little

you held tarantulas like

others held hamsters



till you remember

all the times

you drew

and made up

your own bookmarks

cutting scrapbooks of fairies


No one,

till you remember

melting Three Musketeers

accidentally on

white clothes



till you remember

wandering to a game

of truth or dare


you knelt as

a guy shoved a 2 liter

down his pants and

tipped his hips,

pouring sprite all

over your mouth



till you remember

walking peacefully

among the hundreds of

graves and

feeling happy


You are you,

and every experience

is unique.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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