|Wake up at eleven
'Cause it's your birthday.
Eighteen's gonna be heaven
or at least it seems that way.
What you don't know
is that's only how it seems.
You've grown and grown and grown,
then you're downed at eighteen.
Soon the big day passes.
You're off to savor freedom.
Only one year left of classes,
then the world becomes your kingdom.
Then out of the blue
comes a force of which you'd never dream.
It swiftly plows you
and you're downed at eighteen.
This is a sick form of stating
Congratulations! You're of majority.
In your bed, you're debating
if adulthood's worth the glory.
You try to blink it out of your mind
since you can't believe that it can be,
but now all you seem to find
is you're downed at eighteen.
Angry and helpless, you curse out your fate
as independence rears its ugly head.
Your thoughts are in decline, and at this rate
you start to think you're better off dead.
Yet in the midst of your despair,
you still fail to see
the things of which you're unaware,
that you won't always be downed at eighteen.
But it's hard to see that
when your family's cursing you out.
You can't begin to believe that fact
because you can barely endure this bout.
For now, you have to struggle
with your pain and misery.
So will come a job, and that you have to juggle
with all the hell of being diwned at eighteen.
© Copyright 2003 Elisa the Running Stik (UN: soledad_moon at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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