"You innocent little girl,
hopeless with your inconsequent mind.
Face it Tia, my darling, you are no one grown.
Stuck in your beady mind,
your obligations fall toward the present."
Surely I'm always told,
that I can't be who I feel,
the person I am is young.
Operating by intolerance, my brain spasms.
You know that I feel stuck inside.
"You are too young, a young woman maturing,
Out on a whim doing whatever crosses your path.
Out on a whim answering your own questions,
that's what a young mind is designed to do.
Face this mess because it is yours."
I'm still in high school but I don't belong.
My teenage years remain, but they're despised.
Inside this body, my heart tears with jealousy,
while everyone laughs,
everyone denies me the truth I need.
"I will not allow this folly thought to continue.
You are you and you are seventeen.
I should spit on your shoes,
and disregard you from my will.
Not once will I turn my back again."
Mother, you heard me.
I am not your young daughter,
your maturing juvenile attending this life.
What I am is on the outside,
who I am is on the in!
"Crazy cunt. Defense is nothing but blasphemy!
Insecure, brat. I gave you this life,
you can't appreciate what I do for you."
No because you tell me,
force me,
drag me from one life to another while I, madam,
know my own place. I know who I am,
you gave me a life that isn't mine.
I'm hidden behind pale flesh,
a Russian heritage,
a number created seventeen years past.
I'm stuck in this young body when I feel old.
Capable of breaking free but cannot,
but I feel so old.
So jealous of those who have independence,
that know they can do it on their own.
That should be me because I'm ready.
And you may think that I am so young,
immature and confused,
I'm not.
I'm just trapped behind "me".
