How can you ask,
what we want to be
when we grow up?

We are sixteen,
seventeen, and
eighteen.

We are already grown,
our lives are already
set in stone.

Some of us
know
who we are.

Some of us
know
who we want to be.

When we talk,
you can interrupt
all you want.

When you talk,
interrupting is worth
detention or grounding for us.

But we are adults!
Mature young people!
That is what you tell us.

Yet you have the nerve to say,
"When you grow up."
But wait;

Aren't we young adults?
Or are we just young?
Is there really a difference?

To you,
we are young.
But we have done nothing wrong.

We are simply young at heart.
They still sing
the songs of our enduring youth.

We are still full
of life and hope.
But you crush it

Determined, I think,
to make us
like you:

Down trodden,
living only for tomorrow,
you forgot about today.

You lost the gentle
innocence,
that we have yet to finish losing.

Our minds are full,
but not yet
at capacity.

Your minds,
they seem
to grow smaller by the day

They must!
for you to forget
all your "childish intrigue!

You know
we are forced
to make mistakes

Learning as we must,
and Knowing what we know,
How do you find the heart to tell us,

We must choose now where we go?