My reflection is with me, wherever I go

It reminds me or the times, of how they pass by

It slip through my fingers, smooth like water,

I look at my reflection in the deep pool.

It’s blurred, am I blurred?

Maybe mirrors show you wrong, maybe it’s the water,

The fountains that show what you really are.

My life has been short, my experiences few.

Watch it fill a book, just one, not several,

Not as many as my mom, as the guy who lives next store,

But I will, eventually, my book will grow larger,

It grows larger by the minute.

But does this mean that teens don’t know right from wrong?

Does a shorter book prove we can’t do anything on our own?

Yes, we’re young, and yes, a little stubborn,

But so are adults, and we aren’t that far away.

So why do they vote on our rights, our futures?

Shouldn’t we have the right to vote for ourselves?

‘Cause I’m feeling irritated watching politicians chatter on,

About my life, about your life, but our opinion doesn’t matter.

Doesn’t it bother you, just a little?