Written and printed on paper,
I have found,
some postcards and fotos,
just lying around.

When I saw them I read them,
and looked at them and remembered about them,
so many memories,
flooded out magically.

I remembered my kindergarden boyfriend,
my best-friend I'd had for long,
the old friends I had,
that had packed away and gone.

And it was then that I realized,
the life I had back then,
the differences there are from now,
and then.

Back then,
boys invited me,
and I invited them,
some were my friends,
some were just class-mates.

Back then,
I had lot's of friends,
and people who appreciated me,
and a boyfriend.

A boyfriend.
One that I had almost forgot.
A boyfriend?
It is hard to believe.

Back then,
my cousins and grandparents,
came to visit me,
for my birthday.

Back then, 
I was cute,
I was nicer,
I was shyer.

Back then,
people liked me for being behaved,
for being nice,
and for being who I was.

Back then,
I was myself,
I had friends who liked ME.
The ME.
And there weren't few.

THAT was my life back then.

For the people that noticed I wasn't at school today, this is why:

I was scared on the car,
when my mom told me that we were going to the doctor,
when she told me it was today,
when they would burn them.

I was scared, 
but not so scared as if I'd been,
if I'd known the pain that would come after.

When we got there the doctor explained the process,
he said it wouldn't hurt,
at least after a couple of minutes.
WOULDN'T HURT!

He was already holding the Liquid nitrogen,
already holding my foot,
I needed time to breathe,
time for him to say something like: READY?

No, he didn't.

He started with my left foot,
on a teeny wart,
at first it didn't even hurt...
and then my foot flooded with pain.

After a few seconds I could bare it no longer,
it was like a giant drill, 
drilling on my foot to get it out,
It was SO terribly horrible.

I was crying into the sleeve of my mom,
praying that the pain would end.

When he finished I told my mom I needed to breathe before doing it on the other foot,
she told the doctor,
he waited a second and impatient,
he continued.

Now I could still feel one foot hurting,
but now two!
It was SOO dreadful,
dreadfuler than when I broke my arm.

It ended,
and before I could say anything,
the doctor grabbed my foot,
before I had anytime to ask my mom for a second to breathe.

Again, I feel the burning on my foot.
It is actually a substance so cold that burns,
I feel as if I wanted to die,
I dread the moment.

When it's over,
my mom SAYS it's over,
but I cry and tell her it isn't yet,
and won't be for a while.

My feet,
I could still feel the Liquid nitrogen,
the dreadful Liquid nitrogen on my feet,
And It hurt so much.

And I promise,
it never got better until I went to sleep.

It still hurts now,
and I can't walk,
I can still feel the burning,
the Liquid nitrogen.

IT IS HORRIBLE.

Why does it have to be,
to suffer before to discover,
why does it have to be,
that I'd suffered before I'd known.

Why does it have to be,
to discover the healthy way of eating,
when its too late,
why does it have to be,
that doctors don't tell you till it is too LATE.

Why do you have to wait,
until you get to discover,
I TELL YOU WHY OH WHY,
WHY SUFFER BEFORE DISCOVER?!

My foot hurts,
as a volcano eruptiong on me,
My foot hurts,
Well as lucky as can be.

It's as if a ton of elephants,
a gazillion of girrafes (and squirrels)
Were all on my foot.
Yes, all on that great foot.

It hurts every time I walk,
as if I turn a button for the stampede to run over it.
Yes, that's how it hurts.

Well lets start with something,
a stampede of what?
Of mountains, giants and houses,
oh yes, All on that weight and bouncing on my foot.

So, yes the zoo is kinda attracted to my foot.

A coin on a cliff,
a giant on a speck of sand,
two people side to side,
or the different personalities between you and me?

You,
and me,
and everyone in the world,
all adults,
all children,
all plants, 
all dogs,
all animals,
all foods (especially potatoes),
all paper,
all material,
all schools,
all buildings,
are different.

May I ask, 
What in the world is the same?

A paper, and an other paper?
No, nothing is the same.

Not the present,
nor the past,
not the future,
or time being.

Not the farmers,
nor the potatoes,
nor the iphones,
or the ipods.

Okay, 
this poem's getting random.