I am eighteen
but I’d rather be twenty five,
I am not young for my age,
with raging hormones and immaturity
so that everyone can stare and laugh,
nor am I perfect like an angel,
redeeming my merits and showing off,
unknowingly I must face them.

Compared to me they are little,
and a smart a** at that, but more,
and I want one’s spirit and pride,
tonight, in all the darkness of skies,
summer breeze fills my cooled lungs.
I walk alone, no one’s watching
sometimes I feel the wrong age,
but I most perfectly accept it---

My thoughts in the long run,
it’s more natural thinking with logic,
then my elders and I can have a conversation,
and I shall be useful in some respects,
then I will be the elder,
even though I am younger than all of you.