The Irony of Turning 16

Once again, the 16th time
it happens. But it is different
this time.

the 16th time, I can
feel the urge.

And soon then feel my feet
starting to curl up, long talons.
two toes instead of five.

and my arms shrink
going into my sides
until soft feathers
cover them and turn into
wings.

I shriek, waiting for the moment
of freedom
weightlessness

and as the 16th time passes,
I spread my wings, ready to soar.
and have a hawk's eye view of what is mine.

when I fly for a few seconds.
realizing I'm in a cage. confused,
the unfairness.

this 16th time, was supposed
to be mine.

but now responsible for so much more.
and no time for freedom that I
thought was so rightly mine.
that is the irony of turning 16.

***I'm not yet 16, but can only imagine the freedom and responsibility of getting older...***