The Lament of the Almost 18

The Lament of the Almost 18

Send me on a merry chase, 

I'll fly on the Tardis to outer space,

I'll travel places never seen,

Just please don't let me turn 18.

I'll put Goliath's head on pike,

I'll yell, "Newsies go on strike!"

I'll go to London to save the Queen,

Just please don't let me turn 18.

I'll fight for good
With my sword of wood,

I'll lay down my life,

When ever I should,

I'll be a crutch for all to lean,

Just please don't let me turn 18.

I told Peter Pan,

I'd never become an adult,

When we went to Never Land,

To begin our revolt.

My cold heart tamed by the Little Prince,

So I traveled with him ever since.

But even Narnia wilted away.

Peter's Wendy couldn't stay.

The Little Prince took his last stand,

To be with his friend in a far away land.

But sometimes you see rules bend.

This is not how stories end.

And perhaps I'll find a way to redeem,

This sad little child who turns 18.

(I wrote this about a month ago, but I'm posting it an hour and forty-five minutes before I'm actually 18.  So it still counts.  I'm still a child).