Remind Yourself
That the only help you've ever needed
Were at times when your body was receded.
From the memories of your past
Welcomes the troubles of your future
And those warm emotions become
Fewer and fewer.

You’re older now, but not an adult yet.
You're still making bets, and only a couple of you are writing checks.
But whether you’re springing yourself into a large pool
Of vocabulary

YOU HAVE NO NEED TO FIGURE OUT WHO YOUR GONNA BE.
Cause I know that I – One more year to go I, will be sitting in a chair wobbling
My mind from the wall to the scent of air,
As a lady or man, asks me my plan, and the only solution that comes outta my hand is me saying,
“I don’t know.”
And I dare them to call my momma and start some drama, asking her,
“Do you know what college you daughter will attend to Ma’am?”
For she will start speaking in accents as she silences the children and whisks them away to absence.
And I'm tired of all the 45’s through 95’s (if there even alive) asking me who I’m gonna be. Making me bring up the book of intelligence, instead of telling them that question is irrelevant. Instead of telling them the truth. That just because I'm midway through my youth, don’t mean I gotta respond to you. For I learned in Psychology, that the way we perceive sociology is in individualism. And there’s nothing wrong with that. For I love me, and I love to be free, that if I trap my name into a group, I’ll be rebelling like the workers in the assembly line in 1913.

For my life has changed ever since my age has changed. For the friends I would chatter and text, are all now perplexed with conforming into cliques they can't assist. And if you remember, the grudges that I quit holding, because I've forgiven, but not forgotten. Remember? For every time, I ask myself, “What am I doing in my life.” I begin to cry. And words of folly enter into my mind. That I start to notice little looks past me by, and whispering of how horrible and strange I am to the human kind. Man do I wish to flicker you blind, so you can “see” my life, and what makes me this way. Boom! Rapidly flicker you back to your place.
For being me is not easy lemon squeezy. And it probably isn't the same for you. For I dedicate this poem to the ones who know how hard it is to get accepted. How hard it is to be loved. But you don't need that somebody, you need that ‘your body’. For no one can love you as much as you love you. For nobody can tell you who to be. For I decree, poetry is my sea.