Teenagers
By lexy
- 578 reads
Mr Fourteen
Later he garbles, as he flees through the door
All trainers, cheap after shave, hormones, and more
He's going to youth club, or thats what he said
Worry and panic explode in my head
Even youthy's abundant with things of thier time
Drug dealers, joyriding, damage and crime
How do I help him? What can I do?
Will he make the right choices, live his life through?
Will he walk from the pressure, the goading, and heat?
Foil the rap of his peer group beat
Will life inspire him enough to succeed
Or will he curve to the force of a negative creed?
Hoodies, machetes, verbal, and cars
Underage smoking, pool games in bars
Game machines, car parks, and walking the street
How the hell can any parent, compete?
We're outdated, ignored, our values won't last
Like space-invaders and bag-puss, we're linked to the past
We're endemically wrong, past a sly pose
Why the hell should he tell me, wherever he goes?
If life were perfect, as he went through the door
He'd tell me the truth, not stare at the floor
Later Mom, is when ever I choose
Down to the offy, for underage booze
Then to hang round the car park, kick a ball
Spray my name across, somebody's wall
I'll call for my mates, then go on the nick
Deluge, the elderly, give them some stick!
If I'm honest lets fact it, he'd never go out
I'd listen and lecture and probably shout
He'd reply with the thesis, that parents are thick!
They counsel, they worry, they ground and they trick
They theorise ethics, and stare all forlorn
Deprived of an ego, they don't know there born!
They're uncool, can't skate board, their clothes are just dumb
They're terminally boring, worn out, no fun!
I'd finish by saying, I've heard it before
With his ears tightly shut, as he heads for the door
At nine, we'd often talk about life
Before his hormones were causing him strife
At Fourteen, I lost the son I once knew
And according to him, I lost my IQ
From his side I guess, I maybe sound sad
Paranoid, unhinged, bordering mad!
At my being, unhinged the dialogue ends
I kind of wind down and he phones his friends
This time, I continued pressing my case
As he grimaced, and gave me the negligent face!
Once you're a parent son, a responsible man!
I was wasting my time and his listening span
The truth, is when he's thirty
And I'm known as Gran
He'll only just realise, how clever I am!!
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