If I Could Speak to an 11-Year-Old-Me
If I Could Speak to an 11-Year-Old-Me a poem by Marsha Marie childhood youth what do you know times of wind change with the seasons whispers of knowledge i have for you study and study hard keep to yourself and leave out the carbs lower your voice and your gaze for your heart becomes easily blazed future self hear my plea from a fucked up future i beg you to flee but wait.......... without those mistakes would my children be three? would culture and languages abide within me? my children so loving just the way they are had i not turned down that road so far so never mind 11-year old me it's best you continue down the road that is to be