Hush child,
don't you know?
You're in your youth,
so you can't complain.
You can't be tired,
you shouldn't be sad.
Because there are those
who are worse off then you.
So that makes your problems VOID.

Stop whining.

...

Now my side.
I am turning 21 in a month's time.
I'm considered anything from
a child...
a teen...
a young adult...
whatever suits your tone at the time,
since I don't control my own life.
I scrape my knee,
or cut my wrist.
I stay up late,
or work too much.
I buy too much,
or I'm never out with friends.
What would you have me do?
Please tell me,
because what is "free"?

I'm tired,
I'm sore,
but if I complain in your confidence,
you just look bored.
Sorry that I trusted you.
I'm sorry to complain.
I'm so sorry that I saw you as an equal,
while you failed to do the same.

This "poem" won't always rhyme.
Mine never do.
But maybe that's just not good enough for you?

But I'm NOT sorry to say...
that it's NOT your place,
it's MINE.
It's my life, and my sadness, and my pain,
or my happiness, and my wealth,
and SOME DAY I won't let you push me around.
I'll stop treating you nicely
and you'll be offended,
because I'll defend myself,
because you AREN'T my equal,
because you never look at me that same as I look at you.

I'm not a child and I'm not a teen.
I'm not an adult.
I'm just me.
But I'm not you.
And you aren't me.
So when I choose to trust you and open my heart
and share my pains,
just nod my way and say
"I understand."

Because once upon a time, you were my age,
and you looked at the world like it would never love you
or accept you.
Like you were
a child...
a teen...
a young adult...
but never you.
Just whoever they wanted you to be at the time.

So PLEASE,
UNDERSTAND.

I'm not complaining to offend you,
I just want to share our struggles,
and meet an accord,
so we can be equals.
I don't want to fight anymore.
I'm not a child.
And you aren't an adult.
We're humans, and at some time in your life,
you were the same as me.