Sixteen again in my mind.
Sixteen again but I've grown too old.
Sixteen with an ego, and a chip
on the shoulder that cracks the veil
of "pretend I'm an adult."
Sixteen and I'm not in control.
Actions speak louder then words,
so why go back to write these
words down? Hoping to cure
What actions have not?
Sixteen and I'm not in control.
And getting the feeling that everyone
is pretending its all ok,
when maybe, it would be better
for all to allow ourselves to doubt.