Growing up

“Damn your poems!  Study for the exams.”
She cries over and over again eating up my Ram.
I throw her words out of my brain,
But the fear of failing drives me insane.
I want to study but I am not in the mood,
Instead I want to watch a nice movie or read a new book.
I want to roll over the infinite softness of my bed,
And scribble some fusion beats instead.
I don’t want to study about population and it’s numbers,
The census and theories drives me to slumber.
Why does life get harder with every birthday we celebrate?
Growing up is tiresome and an element of us fade.
The true and best element that makes us what we are,
It digs in deeper as we grow and all that’s left behind are scars.

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25 thoughts on “Growing up

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