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Why Am I A Child?
I am not old enough to drive,
I am not allowed to work,
I cannot vote,
And the world still sees me as a “child”.
I can lift myself up off the ground,
And I can dry my own tears,
And when someone I love is in need,
I will be there.
My name does not matter,
My voice is not heard,
My thoughts and feelings,
Are inferior.
I feel strongly,
I am capable of love and hate,
I can cry for myself,
And laugh when I’m happy.
Your eyes pass over me,
I cannot make decisions,
I’m too young to love,
And I am always wrong.
I can clean my own wounds,
I can carry my own weight,
I can learn quickly,
And I can think for myself.
What is an adult?
Someone over the age of 18?
Someone old enough,
To ruin their own lives?
What is a child?
Someone too young,
Too small,
To know how to live?
I am strong,
And smart,
And capable,
So why am I a child,
When you,
Who have had,
So many years,
Cannot take care of yourself,
Or me?
Please explain,
Because I don’t understand.