A Sonnet about Growing Up

Our adolescence leaves us like ink-blotched stains

For I cannot bend this coming-of-age archetype

And I must contain this lion that must be tamed

With not enough fight and too much hype.

 

Our heartaches are like scattered splinters

Wondering when the pain has ended

And these sore thumbs that cannot hinder

The self-approval that allows me to blend in.

 

Our minds create illusions with preconceived notions

Not allowing us to remove our masks

Parents unsure of who produced these commotions

For we have strayed away from our tasks.

 

Our bodies are borrowed for the tenacious war

No telling how many seek self-medication

We have cried out with wings ready to soar

As the next generation arrives for our nation.

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