I will not be moved,
No matter how hard you hit,
Go ahead and keep pounding,
My strength is astounding.
When your done,
I get up slowly,
And speak these words,
'Thank you god for this wonderful day, And thank you for this voice to pray.' You stare shocked.
I walk away.
I wake up the next morning,
To my fathers angry voice,
'You'll never amout to anything, Shut up! Your making too much noise.'
Those words dont hurt much anymore,
Words will never hurt me,
You slam me against the door.
I walk to school limping,
As I usually do,
I compare the falling leaves
To the strength of my weakness.
I think I'll go to the creek,
When its my time to go,
That won't be long,
I know it shows.
Im 12, i dont really know why i write half the things i do. they just come out. so this is what ya get
to find the passion at such age is priceless. dont stop writing... you are amazing! ! ! ! keep up the good work
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow. What a picture poem. I love the idea of you and the leaf. Creative genius. It saddens me /touches me that some kids/people do go through what you write about, and I pray it's not you! Take care, Keith