when you’re seventeen
when you're seventeen,
the world is bittersweet
there is so much you know and so much you don’t
what you want isn’t always on your plate,
and what the table offers isn’t always easy to take.
words hit you like thunder and rain,
sometimes like roses and daffodils
other moments pass with coffee and music.
when you are seventeen,
you are expected to be perfect from every edge
but dare you question the working of the system,
because you are still young and naïve.
influenced by others easily, but that’s how we find our own motive.
we make our voices by mixing millions, finally believing in the right
and for others, the right we believe may be on the erroneous side.
we are confused; in dilemma about the open minds,
conflicts and disasters’ theories,
but we don’t just weep in sorrows and worry
young is just a state of mind, maturity comes from awareness,
and being 17 never felt so wonderful after we taste our own medicine
sporadically it’s cherry, and then it’s sand
but isn’t this how children learn to stand?