The Pitfalls of Maturity

I've been told that I'm mature for my age, and the more I look around me, the more I see that it is true. Sometimes it makes me feel "above" the rest of my peers (which it shouldn't), but other times it also makes me feel alone.

One day when I was young I heard an old man say,

"Grow up, my child. Grow up fast! Don't waste your life away!"

And so I did.


I used the tools I had been given, to build myself a model

of the person that I would be, when I could do more than toddle.

My mind was full of rich ideas of how to use my life,

and I even thought of ways that I could overcome some strife.

I said, "This drama is a silly thing of which I have no use."

So I never fell for the alluring trap or bit into the apple of youth.

I watched my fellow children as they around me grew,

Yet found that they grew slower than I thought they had ought to.

They consumed pollution like a hog and its cuisine,

And laughed out loud when they discovered that I was still quite clean.

However, I knew better than to take a single notice,

I was perfect as I was, as brilliant as a lotus.

Then one day I realized they had something I did not,

They possessed the the intimacy that I had always sought.

It's hard, when you are prudent, to find someone like yourself,

So you are often left alone, like a doll dusty on the shelf.

But despite my hunger for their charming empathy,

My actions were repeatedly won over by rationality.

And even still, as I've moved on and continued to arise,

I've found hardly one of likeness under these great blue skies.

Among my closest friends, I am the weirdo and the geek,

And the one they run to when it is guidance that they seek.

I'm still just a child! I know not what to do!

All I have is my tuition and advice to give to you!

I avoid the snare of youth so that I might evade some pain,

But I've found that growing up with haste can also prove a bane.

The world sees me as different, which I'll proudly claim to be;

I'm guided by holy wisdom, I'm not your average teen.

Yet still I have my battles, to forbear tempting impurity,

Alas! This is such: the pitfalls of maturity.

The End

4 comments about this poem Feed