I'm still that girl.
The eight year old who craves to come home and jump into her dad's arms,
The one who needs her mom to shield her away from all the world's harms.
I still need my mom to come kiss my forehead when I cry,
Promising me that she's here with me until the tears go dry.
I still need my dad to read me a story as I fail to sleep,
To buy me an ice cream the moment I start to weep.
I still need the trapped queen to be my only distress,
I still need my dad to treat me like his only princess.
Where are you mom? Where are you dad ?
You'll were never there when I was eight and sad,
You'll aren't here now, when they're driving me mad.
~Aanvi.
2/2/19.
11:11 pm.
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Booonnjjoourrr, you lovelies! So waddup?
So again , I am very proud of my back to back update and request you to tell me how you feel about this poem.
Ly all ❤ 💓
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Eigengrau
PoetryWhen you're drowning in an ocean, what do you do ? You flap your arms around, kick your legs and resurface while your breath shortens. Let's say by some miracle there's a log right there and you cling to it. Well, that log for me was the consistent...
