Poem 20:Rush
Rush
As a child,
The rush was from a swing.
As a teenager,
The rush was from a cut.
As a child,
The scrape was irrelevant.
As a teenager,
The cut was a release.
As a child,
The grass beneath was a rush.
As a teenager,
The rushing water below a bridge was a temptation.
As a child,
The toys were a comfort.
As a teenager,
The blade became my crutch.
As a child,
The clothes dont matter.
As a teenager,
Long sleeves were my cape.
As a child,
The playground was home.
As a teenager,
The emergency room was.
As an adult, The refugee was a psychiatrist.
Do not rush.