How can it be Iím old enough
To act responsibly,
But still I have to follow rules
My parents make for me?
Why is it when I try to show
Innate athletic grace,
I trip upon my growing feet
And fall upon my face?
Why is the stuff so very dull
We have to learn at school,
And why do all the other kids
Have parents that are cool?
Why should my parents call my room
A national disgrace,
When Iím the one who has to live
Inside this messy place?
Why do I fall in love so much
With first one, then the other,
Though itís not real, just puppy love,
According to my mother?
Why do I try to please my peers
And seek the things they seek,
While wishing other people would
Consider me unique?
Why am I sometimes happy, and
Then right away, Iím sad?
Why donít I say and do the things
I later wish I had?
Dad has the answer to my plight.
He says itís of the essence;
Iím not an adult nor a child,
But live in adolescence.
He says itís just a stage Iím in,
And I donít have to love it.
Itís only temporary though;
Heís sure Iíll grow out of it,
And all the questions I have now,
The Dear Lord understands.
Heís loved me since before my birth
And holds me in His hands.
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