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Untitled
May 23, 2019
It was the best of times,
It was the worst of times.
Split. Half and half.
One part bright, smiling,
The other gloomy, dark.
One half open and breathing,
the other half soffocating, trying to get the words out.
Vivid and lively is the noon sun,
deathly dull is the noon of night.
Social and animated,
then,
silent and motionless.
First one thing, then its counter.
Polar opposites, contradicting each other.
Such as fire and ice.
But both can be dangerous.
As you can see, I am split,
half and half.
But aren't we all?
It is the best of times,
It is the worst of times
© Anna B., Marblehead, MA
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This is my first time ever posting something to a writing forum of any sort. The poem was written when i wasnot in too hot of a place, sorry if it seems very repetative, but, at the time it is just what i was thinking and I wrote it down. It pretty much means we all have good times we all bad times and while they can be very different from eachother and happen in a small amount of time we at humans (teens especially) are aclimated to balance it, show the good parts, keep the bad parts hidden, but not only can the bad be a burden, but along with is comes the burden of pretending to be happy.