Nineteen
A poem about growing up

This is me. Nineteen and newly free from forcing facades and emotions fleeting. Simply things for an immature teen.
Yet, this is not me. An abhorrence to alcohol and a love for all things “uncool” living a laboured life of drawl, powerless to vanish from a vapid whirlpool. This is not me, living a life of conformity, telling a tale of tarradiddles. Unable to live a life of mediocrity, away from the truth I skedaddle. This is not me, learning from a donkey whilst pretending to be an unicorn unable to do anything. For my choice is already airborne. This is me. At least for now. Nineteen, and newly bound.






