My last day of my
' c h i l d h o o d '
Tomorrow I'm eighteen.
It's funny when I think about how many years I've seen.
And God, so many
M e m o r i e s
The good, the bad, the great-
The sad, the worst, the brilliant,
Yet I need them all to date.
It's definitely a
S p e c i a l
One.
But scary, nonetheless.
To wake up being someone new, a 'grown up' and the rest.
But inside I'll still be a
C h i l d
Who needs her mum and dad.
Tomorrow, yes, I'll celebrate, but growing up is sad.
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