Array ( [sid] => 177535 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Growing up [time] => 2014-01-05 13:57:12 [hometext] => [bodytext] =>

When I was young I wanted to be older
I kept all my hopes and dreams in a big red folder.
But with each winter it only got colder
And I lost that folder.

The dreams that I had were trashed
As I got older my confidence was slowly bashed
How is it that our society encourages this
It's "okay" to bully and it's "okay" to form cliques.
We go into high school bright candles wanting to shine
and come out with nothing but burnt our wicks

How are we supposed to teach our children to be who they are
When all their dreams will be judged and happiness will seem so far?
We can't shield the future generation from every scar.
My isn't this all just so bizarre

It's up to us to care.
We must teach them to be fair,
teach them that feelings are like paper and are easy to tear.
They must learn it doesn't matter what people wear
The most important thing is that they care
These are the things we must share
[comments] => 1 [counter] => 74 [topic] => 14 [informant] => hippieginger [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DreamsandWishes ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Growing up


Growing up
Date: Sunday, 5th January 2014 @ 01:57:12 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: hippieginger

When I was young I wanted to be older
I kept all my hopes and dreams in a big red folder.
But with each winter it only got colder
And I lost that folder.

The dreams that I had were trashed
As I got older my confidence was slowly bashed
How is it that our society encourages this
It's "okay" to bully and it's "okay" to form cliques.
We go into high school bright candles wanting to shine
and come out with nothing but burnt our wicks

How are we supposed to teach our children to be who they are
When all their dreams will be judged and happiness will seem so far?
We can't shield the future generation from every scar.
My isn't this all just so bizarre

It's up to us to care.
We must teach them to be fair,
teach them that feelings are like paper and are easy to tear.
They must learn it doesn't matter what people wear
The most important thing is that they care
These are the things we must share


This poem is Copyright © hippieginger


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