Written by a seventeen year old confused girl..
Seventeen years of living
means an inmate feeling growing
of seeing things as a matured being
though certitude remains a lost thing,
Grasping the odds of the wild world
fleeing away from trials girl
the river in me has begun to flow
not caring which way to go
slow slow slow ,....
there's time to decide the road.
And now when i am 18,not much has changed....pity?
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