I'm still just a child.
18 going on 19 going on four.
Messy hair and no driver's license,
baggy clothes and sometimes,
when I look into a stranger's face, I want to cry.
Locked in a glass box,
futilely beating at the walls
I never knew were there until now.
The only changes I can think of to make
are my own appearance;
Shave my head or dye my hair.
Even that, though, I only ponder doing.
So I study; people, schoolwork, society at large.
Moving tiny pebbles,
trying to carve a door into a mountain
and getting infinitesimally closer each hour.
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