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Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #1794399
A teenager needs to write these feelings down before grown old enough to forget it.
I wished I had more money,
then maybe I could be free.

Enjoying myself in a place of my own, giving,
sharing moments with others and never having to argue or being dumb

People say money doesn’t give you the real deal,
but without it, I can’t seem to be left alone.
I have to share.
I have to share, but being inferior to my own family.
I’m small, can’t cook, can’t clean and can’t go out.
I have no way of changing at home.

I wished I had less money,
then maybe I could be free

Enjoying myself in simpleness with grand dreams to look forward to,
helping out, and never having real argues and always have a practical solution.

People say money makes you happy.
But without it, I’d be used to sharing,
I would have had to help with cooking and cleaning,
I’d be building my character,
people would see me grow on the inside,
I’d be judged by what I do.

I wished I could gain respect among my closest family members,
I wished they could see who I’ve become, and not who I was, and be happy with that.
Money won’t solve this, but when you’re in a guarded cage called home, where do you go?
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