If I Could Speak to an 11-Year-Old-Me

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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 

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