Try to stop the
Hands of time,
Hold this moment
For it is mine.
Try to stop the
Silver in my hair,
Stop time’s ravage
Silent as a tear.
The fat that rests
Upon my thighs,
The damned mirror
With reflective lies.
Why don’t I feel
As old as my face?
Of the child inside
I see not a trace.
I cannot stop the
Hands of time,
With each day
Its damages I find.
But time cannot steal
The child inside
It shall not claim
The girl I hide.
by Jeanne Marie
Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie 
Reblogged this on Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie.
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When I was a kid I always wondered what it like to be an adult. Now I know. It’s like being a kid but with the entire world balanced on your shoulders.
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Yes. But we can eat dessert before dinner and stay up all night. We can also get away from mean people.
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