shivalihp

I write too much of things that aren't real. The imagined fear and pain of living a life I haven't got.

This life I have, this life is real, and I am on the precipice of demise. 

The golden, bright, vibrant sun,

shines throughout the day. 

It shines brightly on the first day of school.

I miss Halloween

Not because it changed

But I did

I miss going with my parents and my brother

And stuffing my face with candy

I miss meticulously planning out a costume

  I am in the eighth grade at a junior high school in Texas. Please, if even for a brief moment, let my voice be heard. 

When I was little, my brother and I would dress up and go Trick-or-Treating. 

I would change my costume a hundred times because I couldn't pick one. 

She looks like her mother

but takes after her father

in speed of temper and wit

she has eyes like her father

but takes after her mother

in grace and denial of pain.