The Hurdles of a Teenager

Prince Akachi-b9951c23

Age is just a number they say, 

but I’m considered too young to be heard.

When I settle in my head,

I’m reminded to gather myself together.

How much blood can a bleeding heart shed?

How many tears can the weeping eyes gather?

I struggle to be the person I’ve known myself to be;

Not because I’ve forgotten who I am or hate who it is I am.

But I am ripped off of everything bold and told who I should be.

I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t hear from 

the bloodline I owe no harm.

Now, my thoughts shiver like a caged 

blackbird in the rain.

My reflection can’t stand light and 

my shadow is too heavy to tag along.

Does time stand a chance against this pain or

Am I forever condemned to sing this old sad song?

An excellent child is not a child intimidated, 

abused, and silenced.

It is a child who is heard, 

encouraged, and empowered.

If my voice ever gets to sing a new song, 

I will ensure it shatters every glass.

When my reflection remembers who I am, 

then I know this too will pass.


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