Officially 18

It is daunting to be eighteen,
To be an “adult” on legal papers
When you have the meandering mind
Of a teenager;
To carry the unrelenting boulder
Of people’s expectations on your
Bruised and bent shoulders,
When you can just shrug at best
On being asked about future plans.

To put up an aesthetically pleasing
Feed for strange eyes
When you just want to curl up in bed
To rest your bloodshot eyes.
To walk the thinly stretched tightrope
Between finding who you are
And building a portfolio that
Sells in the capitalistic ethos.

Your eighteenth summer is a restless sleep
And a precedented rude awakening,
But with good reason.
It is a good deal of learning,
A chance to be an amateur at life.
You’re only eighteen once, so,
I hope you feel free to make a fool of yourself
To win amusing memories to reminisce
And smile your wise little smile at adversity.

Yours truly,

The Ink Warrior.