The wonder and excitement of a life of our own dances on our fingertips.
The images of our futures fly by our eyes in an incomprehensible haze.
Sounds of freedom echo around us, as the vague calls of a bird a mile high and a world away.
Its like being on a beach staring out at the inviting sapphire waves racing to the shore to lap at our ankles, giggling as they try in vain to pull us back with them out into the ocean.
We cautiously stretch out, hoping we’ll be caught in the current.
But before we get far, the hot iron shackles of oppression that were melted over our wrists, in the shapes of our parents hands, tighten mercilessly drag us out to dry.
 Love at this age is impossible.
Imagine that 16 year olds are lion tamers, on our first day at work.
We’re in the ring cracking our whip with mock confidence, thinking the lion staring us in the face is a house cat.
We strut around the ring, kicking dirt up with our heels.
“Knowing” we have it under control we turn our backs only to get maimed.
Imagine a world where the full moon shines day and night without change.
It’s bone white rays kiss the surface of everything they touch.
Flowers, in the hues of blood, sunlight, a dawn’s sky, and the rainbow’s tears, are always in bloom.
Perfuming the air with their intoxicating fragrance.
And in the middle of all the beauty, there is a black spot.
A place where the light wont shine, flowers wont grow.
Where life seems to refuse to be.
That’s us.
Wrapped in black iron chains, covered in dirt and dust.
Isolated yet passionately aware of the beauty around us.
No matter how we twist and turn, pull and yank we can’t break free from the death grip ‘round our necks.
With the firm resolution that’s born in desperation we decide to wait it out it.
Thinking “It’s hard being 16”