By Arcassin Burnham


A young boy training to be a fully grown man is practical,
I was thinking about my step dad and how he was an *******,
Remember all the times when I would wanna send my soul
Off to heaven,
Getting ready for a lucky 97,
Birth years are overrated anyway when people struggle just to
Love The one they dream but knowing half the people would
Rather see you crumble just to make themselves so noticeable
In a situation you could not hold your own any longer,
Just to save your life,
Playing all the cards , don't mean it's right,
Sitting at the red light , waiting for the green to take me
Home with a 40 ounce can and mind full of doubts hoping I just
Make it through this life somehow,
If you didn't know then , your about to know now,
Tried to **** myself 6 times without making a sound.

They say that
-apparently-
I am a grown up.

Sit straight
Stand tall
Wear this
Don’t fall.

Do this
Not that
Try this
Try that

I thought I was a grown up
Well, they say that too

But really
-not apparently-
I am a child.

Fail test
Take track
Room mess
Hunchback.

Street food
Another book
Random mood
Weird looks


I wonder why they name us so,
With titles so bizarre
And scary
Because
-in truth-
we are all children with blackened hearts.

We hurt ourselves
And each other.
I Love my sister,
And I Love my brother.

Sorry heart
Angry smile
Bad start
Hard trials.

I am child.
Nothing else
Maybe a grown up
But mainly just myself.

I grew up weird.
Both fast, and painfully slow.
I understood everything and nothing.
Socially, I started confident and grew awkwardly
first in the sun, then bending away from such bright attentions. Academically I started out running, always ahead,
always the best, the brightest. Straight As and
mismatched clothes, socially lost
yet somehow showing
'great potential'.

Now I've learned a lot.
All blacks and grays, I've finally
mastered at least a portion of my shortcomings
but its too late. Because I've grown up and its shifted again
analytically I see it, can emulate it, but it isn't
familiar or comfortable, it took me
years to catch up and I'm
still behind.

I've grown up weird.

When I was younger,
my mother would sing
you are my sunshine,
and I knew she loved me.

When I was older,
my pap whistled to my gram
I've got sunshine on a cloudy day,
and I knew he loved her.

Now I'm grown,
and I tell you every morning
I'm a ray of sunshine,
hoping that maybe you'll love me, too.

I look at the mirror, someone's staring at me.
I'm eighteen, oh gee.

I get out. Everyone's smiling.
"It's your birthday!", smiles all beaming.

Yet deep down I am filled with worry.
What will my life come to be?

But alas, it is my birthday.
I've noticed how much I've grown.
My face hardly changed,
but I know my actions have shown.

I am now legal.
A great time for most.
No, I will not be chugging down alcohol,
but I will write poetry to sing my songs.

Holding hands to cross the street
Feel the sand under my feet
The way you twirl me, like a cotton candy man
I feel so girly as you wind each curly strand

When I'm growing up too fast
And the world demands a lady
You remind me of my past,
Though it often might evade me

Summer days and autumn leaves
Wading through the endless trees
The way you hold me when I just can't sleep at night
I lay there coldly as you slowly soothe my mind


After all is said and done,
So thankful you're the one
To bring back the daughter in me

the child is grown
the dream is gone
and i am comfortably numb

To say that I was scared was fine
After all it was only a matter of time
Sooner or later I would have to leave home
To be on my own to ponder and roam

At first the thought filled me with dread
The idea of coming back to an unfamiliar bed
But I took the first step that led me away
Sometimes I look back still to this day

But here I stand years from then
These hands of mine that hold this pen
They are not the same I have to say
The years have changed me in many a way

I look back on all the mistakes I’ve made
The things I’ve lost and the debts I’ve paid
But would I change it if I had the chance?
Maybe I would looking at a glance

Then I think of all the things I’ve done
The days of work and nights of fun
Those I’ve met and those who’ve left
I think I’d feel quite bereft,
Knowing that it turned out any other way.