Becoming
A rose bud still, not yet a rose.
A gawky awkward teenager
but she will blossom as she grows
and make me proud she’s my daughter.
But how I hate the moody blues
the angst and insecurity
all teenagers must struggle through.
Their heightened sensitivity.
She sees us all as critical
of how she looks and all she does.
Though how she feels is typical
of each and every one of us
When were young and underwent
our teenage years of discontent.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Added by Poetry Lover
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