To those that are 18 and felling misfit

Just a poem for mainly teens.

To Those That are 18 and Felling Misfit

Now that you are 18, where have your friends gone? People used to talk to you, mess with you. Now they are out sight, with nothing but your own bones to bite.

Don’t hang your and cry, hold your head high. And look to the sky. You are independent, free to do whatever you want, even if it’s redundant.

You no longer need to converse with others, for it’s those people that get you bothered. Now you’re 18, go and experience life without those that may hold you back with strife. If you fell outcasted, rejected, or strange, maybe you should go and have some fun at a shotgun range.

Listen to the music about being on the road, you don’t really need an abode. Hold your head high 18 year old misfit, go out and do what you see fit. Whether it’s skydiving or driving, or reading or partying. Remember that it’s your time to spend, you don’t need to wait for them.