My Childhood
By Eja Courts
It was like a bicycle going down hill
Never stopping
Until you hit the brakes.
Like an IPOD,
Going with the flow of the Music.
Never stopping
Until you hit the brakes.
Like an IPOD,
Going with the flow of the Music.
It was sneakers,
Caked in mud,
Waiting to be cleaned.
A kid in a car,
Itching to ride in the front seat.
Caked in mud,
Waiting to be cleaned.
A kid in a car,
Itching to ride in the front seat.
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