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Eighteen

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I try and breathe, but the universe advises me not too.
There is a wall between the both of us.
It is the universe who sees a future for themselves,
It is I who is blinded by the sun.

They expect us to follow through with our dreams,
But as we escape high school and transfer ourselves to the “real world”,
We are excpected to choose plan B.

The days are passing,
And the years are shortening.
I will soon be fifty,
And the universe will remain unaged.

They expect us to have an insight to reality,
But we have been placed in a bubble we refuse to pop.

Some await the number which follows seventeen,
But others jump from bed to bed believing in pixie dust. 

The universe holds its arms out wide,
Inviting me to the nightmare I will soon have to face.

I shake my head,
Because I am aware of what comes next.
Poverty,
War,
Taxes,
News,
Work,
Independence.

I know I will soon have to grow a year older,
I will soon leave the haven buried with memories in its walls
I know the inevitable is yet to come,
And I know Peter Pan will soon have to leave.
But I fear growing older.
I fear this because though the days passed,
And the years shortened,
I feel I have yet something to offer to this world.
I believe I am a child who has not yet gotten the chance to live.




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