Young enough to not be involved
But enough to understand
Old enough to shelter my siblings
But too young to really care
I'm not at the right age to be handling it
And yet I'm holding it
With my own two hands
They carry it on their backs
While carrying us kids too
I didn't really understand then
Why we had to chose
Between love and affection, or reality and truth
Sometimes I just need a break
But we ain't got the time
These are the things
Kids aren't supposed to know
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YOU ARE READING
Hopeless Poet
KöltészetI write about the world. Her, him, the places of meaning, aggression, compassion, or human nature. TRIGGER WARNING !! some poems talk about s*elf harm and su*cide. Please do not read if you are sensitive to such topics. I will try to put a trigger...
