Young Writers Society

I've gradually grown up,
watching those around me change;
questioning whether they're good people
or bad people,
and why I see them that way.

I've wrapped my small, soft hands
around their fingers,
in an effort to trust them.
I've felt the skin, sometimes rough and worn,
but other times delicate,
like a petal.

Few people seem to stay,
to leave something on you,
whether a stain or an impact.
They leave like moths;
leave me feeling empty.

You left, unintentionally,
leaving confusion.
Questions.
Uncertainty.
Something very similar
to a vacuum.

And despite your absence,
I still continue to grow gradually,
even when I'm confused,
and unwilling,
and uncertain,
and hurting.
Even when I just want a minute to
stop.

Good people breath,
and bad people breath.
But regardless of our morals,
we still share the same air.
We take each other in.
Let each other go.
And we watch people change
while doing so.

I really liked this. It was just a list of thoughts about the world, very honest, and nicely put together to make a poem that 'smooth' to read.

I love it even more after reading it a second time. Very thought provoking...