To Grow Older

She is seven years old
pouting through the toy isle
she's just been told
a new Barbie would have to wait a while.
"I can't wait to be big," she cried,
"I just want to buy my own toys."

She is thirteen years old,
standing by the door
and having just been told
what she been grounded for.
"This is stupid," she muttered,
"I can't wait to just move out."

She's finally eighteen years old
walking across the stage.
She just been welcomed
to the life of minimum wage.
"I've made it," she though,
"I'm finally free."

She is twenty-three years old
holding up the line.
She's just been told
she still needs two ninety-nine.
"I wish I could go back," as she returned the gum to the shelf,
"No one said I'd have to take care of myself."

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