Nassy Fesharaki

Gold Star - 81,808 Points (Dec 29 / Toronto)

Not Eighteen Yet - Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Not eighteen yet

My car is a desert
I am bush, roots on pedals.
Wind, breeze, passengers
They come, pass, and blow.

Seventeen and great
Free is, she speaks:
She said and we knew.

She cannot get to bar
Neither bed, to have fun
Satisfy desire; she is child…
Can’t relieve haunted lust.

Like her are too many
Either has story
Deep stuck, I tell them:
“Lucky you; to be free.”

Topic(s) of this poem: teenage

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, October 25, 2015

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