Do you hear me?
Is my voice mature enough to articulate my plea?
Should I wait a year or two for my basic right of explination?
I'm sure being so young entitles me to draw attention to myself,
And forget my place in your most complicated world.
So forgive me for the assumption that the past you leave behind
Is the future I'm about to command with my inexperiance.
Instead of teaching me, you choose to neglect.
Instead of preparing me, you choose look down upon and degrade me.
Instead of acknowledging me, you choose to medicate me.
You gave me a false sense of entitlement and then punish me
For your mistakes.
Do you see me?
Does my face have the careworn scowl that yours now carries?
Are my eyes still carrying the innocence that you regret losing?
Don't fret for me then
Because it will soon fade.
The hope that I carry within my smile
Will soon mimic the dissapointment in yours.
I am your child.
I am your student.
I am your caretaker when you are old.
I am your future leader that will stand in your place.
I am encouragable and thirsty for when my voice carries weight.
And when my face grows with the ideas you have placed in my head,
Then you have no one to blame but yourself when your voice goes mute.
You'll be wanting for attention
And my response will be that of rememberance of when I was a child.