You're sixteen years old, and you know
how to write an essay in under an hour. You know
how many paragraphs you will need, and what part of a text you need to
rip apart,
just so you can
put it back together like you want (need) it to be.
You've been alive for sixteen years and
you've smoked everything your parents
told you not to,
you've felt the ache in your lungs and
the burn at the back of your throat,
you've woken up in pain and felt regret
and you've made it passed that (mostly).
You're sixteen years old and you know why half the world
is starving, but you don't know why you're not
allowed to give them food, you don't know why
your parents wont let you race
across the world to (attempt to) save a starving child.
You've been alive for sixteen years and you know
what it feels like to be left at the supermarket while your mother
rushes of to get 'another type of pasta'
or 'just one more piece of fruit',
you learnt (learning) pretty early
what being alone
felt like.
You're sixteen years old and you've memorized
more songs than you probably should have
and you fell in love
with the idea of love before
you had even truly
felt it for yourself. One day, you promise,
you will escape (be at peace with) this body
you have been so unwillingly trapped in,
you will visit cities you didn't even know existed
and watching sunrises with a stranger that you love,
you will tear them apart,
pin them down,
forcing your love into their dying lungs.