We all outgrow somethings, Sometimes our homes, Sometimes ourselves, Sometimes old mates, Sometimes the wreck, Sometimes brown woods, Sometimes green grass, Sometimes our uniforms, Sometimes our pencils. Where do we move After the growing, I guess that's what We should be knowing, Is it to the bricks and mortar, Or to the love affair Or to the World so blue, That our eyes stay glued ? Feeling the new emotions, Diving into those depths, Looking into the future, While going through transitions, Way too much load in growing up, And giving ourselves a label To fit and become likable, We lose and then find the essence, That we hold In our soul, To live fully and experience That which world has to offer, Not merely as a gift, Rather an intense call, To give it our all.
I bleed my heart on paper through words.