A stuffed penguin can only comfort so much
Until that cute little beak brings forth no more smiles
That fuzzy teddy bear
- the one you've had forever -
Can only gaze at you with innocent love for so long
'Til those glossy eyes no longer shine
Above his crooked yarn grin
Your precious blanket turns to rags
As that sacred picture book fades from age and neglect
Your fingers no longer have to reach
For the cookies you no longer want
And your mommy doesn't buy you things
Since you get a paycheck on the blessed Fridays
The pointless posters on the wall
- the worthless scraps of ignorant youthful bliss -
Come down with an indifferent sigh
As you change the pictures of your friends' shining faces
From kids to 'mature young adults'
- whatever that means
The boys you once despised
Now come to you with nervous proposals
Your faded dresses and overalls
Transformed into jeans and skirts of a curving form
Everything became a question for you
Now you seem to know it all
And yet refuse to face the truth
In the worlds which they really matter
The paradox of youth entraps all
Heightening the need for adulthood
And still trying to grasp onto the innocence of childhood
Striving for respect as being more than just a 'kid'
And refusing to accept the perils of maturity
The Big People are now your enemies and allies
Forcing you to choose your life
In the most precarious of times
And yet, still grieving now for their now 'lost youth'
In their growing age and experience
They do their best forcing the younger generation
To avoid the threats all should face and learn from
"They treat us like children,"
the big kids whine
"We just want to be adults already,"
and other such nonsense
"Get a job? But I'm just a kid!"
they cry again as their naive prayers are answered
"Aren't I supposed to be enjoying my youth?"
excuses pile up before the final defeat
A stuffed penguin can only comfort so much
When it has no heart to speak to
(c) Julie Benson