IzabellaM

United States

Message from Writer

Hello! I'm a sixteen year old poet and writer. I love the worlds and emotions you can create through language and how those words can transcend bias and hatred. I would love to make friends with other writers. If you want to see more of my work, my poetry instagram is @ceridwen_poetry.

Wildflower Soul

April 21, 2020

I was 5 years old 
On my first day of school
And didn’t know a soul.
You wandered over to me
And me became we.
We grew together
But never expected to grow apart.
I was 9 and my dream was to go
And be someone 
In this big world.
I wanted to go to New York
And London
And Paris.
I wanted to go everywhere
And maybe I still do.
I did not want any roots.
You wanted to be normal
And stay right here,
Never go to New York
And London
And Paris. 
And maybe you still do.
You wanted unmoving roots.
So while I was daydreaming
And you were blending in
The roots of our souls grew apart.
I was 14 and terrified of everyone
Every face was another foe.
You were 14 and friends with everyone
Every face was another soul to never leave this small town.
I was 14
And dreamed of escaping
Of going to a place where I could be 
Nobody and somebody all at once.
You were seeing the place 
Where all your life would be.
I told you I wanted to leave
And you said you would never.
I was 14 and went to take a test
At this strange old building
With no one I knew
And I was terrified.
The roots of my soul
Reached out for yours
And for the first time
You didn’t respond.
Our roots that had 
Once been tangled
Were now unknotted
And hundreds of feet apart.
I was 14
And was given a letter
That said I could accomplish
Every dream I ever dreamed.
I told you that I was escaping
And all you were able to muster
Was a sad congratulations. 
The issue is, is that if you 
Got that letter,
The access to achieve great things,
I would have thrown you a party
I would have been proud
I would have made sure the sun shined extra bright
Just for you.
But all you were was disappointed.
I think that was when I realized that
Every friendship does not last the ages
That sometimes it ends before the last pages
Of the book of life. 
I was 14 and I escaped
From that small town. 
I made friends that have the same dreams
And the same wants
And no small town souls can be seen here. 
You were 14 and you never left
You made new friends that have the same dreams
And same wants
And only small town souls are in sight.
And here I am, 15
And just now realizing
Your roots are those of a tree
And mine are of the wildflowers.
-I have a plane ticket to every city for every year of my non-small town life
This is a very personal piece to me. I had been best friends with a girl since kindergarten, and in about 8th grade I realized that because of my quiet demeanor and my anxiety, she was using me a bit like one uses a doormat. I don't want to say she purposefully hurt me, but we grew out of our friendship. The school we were both at was a large public school, and I wasn't well liked. Not necessarily disliked, but it felt like I was a ghost wandering the streets of a city. Like I was invisible. I was depressed and anxious and stressed. I was drowning in air and suffocating in water. So I left. I tested into an independent private school that gives me more options than I had ever dreamed and I never looked back. The one thing I regret is that me leaving was the final real moments of our friendship. In a way, this poem is a bouquet to her. A bouquet of wild flowers and forget-me-nots. A thank you for everything she did for me, and a reminder to never forget the friend that had a soul that was wild.  

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