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I'm just a child

Your eighteenth year,
is your scariest year.
It’s the year of change,
It’s the year of goodbyes,
It’s the year that you shed your childhood skin,
even though you’re no where near ready,

to let it go.

Your eighteenth year,
is your most vacillating year.
it’s the day you wake up and realize you’re no longer sleeping in your own bed,
It’s the feeling you get in the base of your ribcage, when you realize that home,

is just another word for lost.
That you haven’t really found your home yet;
that when you look at the chapped skin on the backs of your hands,
you realize how many people still live on your fingertips. And how many people they still have yet to touch.

You’re eighteen,
and you’re sleeping in your fathers king sized bed,
you look down at your feet peeking out beneath the covers and remember how small this used to make you feel. You wipe your tears on the edge of his pillow,
because he no longer wakes you when he leaves for work.

“You’re eighteen, you’re old enough now.”

You’re eighteen, but you still feel so small; and the world won’t take no for an answer. He won’t even help you up when you’ve fallen down and scraped your knees, or answer any of your questions no matter how many times you scream them, no matter how much your throat burns.

“You’re eighteen, you’re old enough now.”

I’m eighteen, but I still wear my childhood skin wrapped around me like a blanket, I still feel the teeth of my sixteenth year cutting into my veins;

I was just a child then.

I’m eighteen,
and I still feel the sky dripping down my back, the face of the sun mocking my every move,
tugging at every vein, pulling out every star,

that lives inside my body.
I looked into the face of the sky, and I screamed untill my lungs set fire, swallowing the pieces of  glass that are holding my bones together,
because I was just a child then;
I was just a child.

I’m just a child.

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