Balloon

Letting go can be hard. It’s something that you dread.

As a child, you never want to let go of your balloon.

It’s a precious thing you want to hold on to.

Yet sometimes it’s gone too soon.

Awake before the sun,

Everything is different in a house that's packed up.

Bad sleep, stress headaches,

And enough tears to fill a cup.

Filling up the boxes,

And counting down the days.

“Everything will be okay”

Becomes your permanent phrase.

“Mom where’s the packing tape?”

“Right here, are you feeling okay?

You’re looking a little red.”

“I’m fine”, are the only words I can manage to say.

My body feels light,

Like I can’t control myself.

My head feels blown up,

Like I’m a bobble-head on a shelf.

Tears are ready to stream down my face

At the thought of leaving home.

The only place I’ve ever known,

Becomes just a tiny bubble within a pit of foam.

It’s easy to say that you’re fine,

When you don’t know how to feel.

It’s not easy to say that you’re hurt

When you don’t know how to heal.

When your childhood is leaving,

And all you see is the baby clothes your mom used to sew,

You’ll find the only way to feel better,

Is to learn how to let go.

So I made like a balloon,

And shot my worries to the sky.

I felt myself let go,

And finally let myself cry.

Poem was written and submitted by: Brielynn Myers