Posted in Poetry

To Me, From Now

Many friends speak of regrets

and deep hate for their teen selves.

Too much trouble,

too much anger,

or too arrogant for

adult supervision.

Then there is you,

a girl stuck in books

chasing dragons,

fighting warlocks,

saving the world,

and studying in between

all the novels hoarded

like gold.

Be good, you think, always good,

and no one will leave.

Not again, anyway.

Yet still be ready,

for they might still

at any moment decide

you’re just not good enough

to stay and love.

Oh, if I could tell you…

Don’t beat yourself into

a suicidal crunch.

Let in your friends

so they will help you.

Don’t carry this hidden burden

of singular responsible child.

Let your mother see the letters

you stashed away on bad days.

All these things, but also more.

I would tell you the truth

that you’re ill prepared to hear:

You are worthy

of the love you seek

and the adventure

you need.

Someday, you’ll seek it out

beyond these green hills

and across the sea

you’ll find it all there


Keep going, brave little girl,

you’re almost there.


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