Dix-Sept

An explanation, an apology letter, a rant.

Being seventeen is not easy,
Difficult an understatement.
The constant need to have a perfect persona,
For someone not even worth it.

To study more than to sleep,
To spend every living moment multitasking
To actually having to make time,
To chit chat with family

I hate seventeen,
I detest it.
I’d rather be two or even four,
Bundled in the cradle of innocence.

While I may be seventeen,
In a society that is so judging.
I constantly yearn to break free,
From the social shackles of society.

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