2wenty... Poem by Eman Awad

I can't help it but to write a poem,
of every year passes me by in my life.
I haven't changed much, i'm still alone,
poems are just like head ups for another strife.
I still have the hope of eighteen,
and the severe pain of nineteen in me.
And what a dream i've seen,
that this life can get better for me.
Tell me, do i still have the right to dream,
do i have the chance to be happy this year?
Am i getting older so fast and i stream,
i stream into my years and get lost in my fear.
A poem that's like the conclusion,
of three hundred and sixty five days went through.
I was 18 and i had an illusion,
i was 19 and i got over the illusion, i just let go.
And now i'm twenty and wondering, is that it,
is this life? is this my life? it's passing me by.
My dreams i can't remember,
and my heart breaks i can't forget,
and even my tears i can't cry...