18 (A poem I wrote)

[IsiahHolmes123]

A treasure I can wear as a trophy
A trophy I stole from these delusions of freedom
Freedom, the truth is, sadly, we were never free
We dwelt in the shadow of my mother
The matriarch, the overwatching mother bird
We avoided our friends, the ones we once cherished
We hid and fled away from these..pigs..hungry and vicious in intention
Vicious in their desire
Devious in their method
We always kept an eye out for these blue coated fiends
We always knew they’d claimed the streets as their own
We always remembered that the night belonged to them
We always and will forever remain wary of them..
The pig

As I have come to age, as I have grown older
Now 18
I realize some of the things I felt I needed, I don’t
Some of the things I longed for, I can really do without
All this pain and agony that forced me to give in
Forced me to want to give up, It may all be worth it
Im 18 now, and for some reason the world seems different
Different in its feel, different in that now
This dawn, this delusion
I may now be able to move my own
And to this world I’m leaving behind
The cabin, the den, my home
Farewell good friend and the ghosts, inside they reside
Goodbye to these troubles, see you on the outside

[Joe Mc]

interesting piece of writing ..some nice movements and ideas thankyou for sharing i found it fascinating to read it ...and i liked the violence in there even the idea of violence and i liked when you stepped outside too..human development and vision seems to be like stepping out of a fog sometimes and you captured that my friend. thankyou once more.

Agree with Joe. Thanks for the poem and perspective.