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Poetry Competition: Anonymous

The Days

Blueberry stamps on my hands Forming twenty different bands Everyone understands me Eating cough drops like candy

Those were the days, weren’t they?

Flashlights and books under covers Dreaming about all future lovers Peels carefully taken off of grapes Crying reserved solely for bad scrapes

Those were the days, weren’t they?

Brags about who had the most cousins Fighting over elevator buttons Tomboys sporting only ponytails Begging parents for a sip of their cocktails

Those were the days, weren’t they?

When mascara was a sign of maturity, And being cool was because of impurity When clothes weren’t judged only worn And most shirts proudly displayed unicorns

The days when life was simple

When chocolate milk could be traded And my hair was usually braided When highschoolers looked so tall And in P.E. we played kickball

The days when life was easy

When we all laughed at the word “boobies” And screams could be heard over cooties When we competed over spelling tests And sad meant the same as depressed

The days when life was good

Where did those days go? Since when is life so hollow? When did childhood wisp away? And we started living for some future day?

It seems as if this is all life has become Meaningless thoughts about where we came from Worries about tomorrow and beyond And never truly knowing where you belong

But what really matters most? Is it ok to live with your ghosts? Or should you live with one foot out the door? Wondering if it is valid to just want more?

Question after question about what comes next Looking back is too sad and far too complex Because what you left behind isn’t you any longer Even though you know your past has only made you stronger

So we waste wishes on dreams of turning time back Wanting to end this infinite run forward around life’s track But trees can only grow upward to survive Even though we all yearn for those days long fallen behind

Days that have long since flown to the sky Gone without a single wave or goodbye Disappeared forever leaving only vague summaries And some faint recollection of leaves like floating memories


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