Sixteen Going on Twenty

These words aren't coming easily,

When I try to write them down,

I can't force poetry on my pages,

But I want to explain my frown.

You see, sixteen going on twenty,

Is a tired age to be,

There are bags under my eyes,

And my eyebrows are so heavy.

And if I died tomorrow,

I know I would be missed,

But the sweet release of no more pain,

Seems almost worth death's kiss.

I stare at my razor,

Too long in the shower,

Wondering about cutting my wrists,

To bleed out in the water.

And after those thoughts,

I shake my head,

And call myself so silly,

Push them to the back of my mind,

To wonder why,

I'm in such an emotional tizzy.

You see, in a world of shallowness and tik tok,

It's not at all easy to be sixteen,

When all the girls that are my age,

Are only twerking and vlogging in their dreams.

I'm not into gossip or rumors,

I don't think I'm ready for a boyfriend,

I have enough makeup already,

And I don't care about new trends.

Everyone thinks I'm older than I am,

Because of the way I act,

And I'm even tired of being seen as mature

Because my mental health is not intact.