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Splinters
April 17, 2024
I can still see
the bright colors
on the playground.
When did they turn gray?
The trees flying by as I swing,
the wind is my friend.
Did you see me?
I jumped off and landed on my feet.
Now,
I stumble when I land.
The ground that used to be soft
is covered with rocks,
each one making a singular cut
until all my blood is gone.
When did playing pretend turn into
hiding?
The mulch goes on forever.
I bet I can run until I fall off the Earth.
Running,
running,
I hit a wall.
I never thought I would be still again.
© Anonymous
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Poem about growing up.