bright eyed
and shimmery
as are those
who are twenty
but the world
molds monsters
at that age through
minuscule details
and who were we
but half formed
children singing
summer songs
bearing wounds
but still whole
enough to know
our inner cores
right until the
the storms of life
rained decent
amounts of mistakes
without guidance
we were left alone
holding hands
in a dark forest
how was it that
I was old enough
but not wise enough
to heed the signs
misunderstanding
that the words
were masks to a
specific chaos inside
tricky yes but not
yet dangerous for
we youths are only
epitomized promises
but still I, a child,
started drowning
from the threats
I couldn’t perceive
I did not notice
your breadcrumbs
substituting roses
were quiet pleas
what if then
I was older
I would have
done something
because the
trees were falling
but it felt as though
only I could hear
(Excerpt from “March On” written in May 2019)
AnnieSHH 