Eighteen
Eighteen is some imaginary,
arbitrary line that we cross over.
One day, a child then
boom!
You wake up the next as an adult.
No matter whether whether
you learned your lessons,
the box is checked,
the documents handed over.
Here are your bills,
your job,
your anxiety,
your endless responsibilities;
The adulthood welcome package.
No returns accepted.
2 thoughts on "Eighteen"
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And then, overnight, you’re 42.
And sadly, you feel no closer to the answers to “life, the universe,” OR anything.
Love that next to last stanza.
Powerful ending: No returns accepted.