I may be young
But I believe 16 years of experience is worth 16 stepping stones
To reach the expectations of society
And spit in the face of it

We are prey to the predators
Involved in a war of existence
Where we bleed tears
And cry blood
Functioning wrong
Because we are told we are never right

Validation we rarely receive is sweet they say

The predators

But how do we know when they

The predators

Sliced our tongues to hide our screams

Trouble is lurking from the parents that gift the children with what they want
In contrast to what the children need

My pen doubles as a society cleanser
Writing all the wrongs in all colored inks
Inspired by the beautiful equal people
And I take that sliced, beaten down wood
So I can shove it down their ******* throats

And I find peace under their tears
I craft it into a blanket
Yes, its cold
However, my body is warm from the scars of bullet shells, death stares, and unwanted opinions

A shameful balance