Adolescence

Being a kid is like a dream. 
You’re riding bikes 
and going on hikes in the park.  
Nothing is holding you down 
‘cept when the day frowns with rainy skies 
and you can’t stay out after dark. 

And then being an adult,  
they say it’s a nightmare.  
I wouldn’t know 
but taxes and parallel parking 
sound like my demise. 

And then it's adolescence, 
what I am,
a waning moon of childhood innocence,  
but there’s red markings 
on my test pages 
making me cry,
tears shining under bright fluorescence, 
and no one cares what my age is

because I’m too young to understand.
Too young to take a stand. 
Too old to be a child. 
Too old to be wild. 

Too old, too young.

Knots tied in my tongue
because I’m stuck a teenager in a world
unmade for me.

I am not a speechmaker. 
I am not a peacemaker. 
Am not the line-bender between adult and child. 

I am a child, not yet grown,
I am an adult, not yet sewn
into perfect trialed shape.

No wonder I want everyone
to leave me alone.