Late Bloomer

A Poem

There are experiences that are universal and suffering is one of them.

It’s hard to be vulnerable.

Terrible to confide in the wrong person.

Crushing to love the unattainable boy.

Terrifying to smile at the pretty girl.

I was undercooked and burnt, wise and naive.

I skated through the impossible and struggled through the elementary.

By the time I bloomed late, I couldn’t see the good in me.

Sheilds of Academica and Language - Diplomas and Accolades

Don’t protect me.