She Was Right

I was ignorant in my infancy

I thought I was entitled to an epiphany

The trails of walks so far to crawl

When I see my body waken

To the reality, that I forsake

Momma always told me I was 18 years in the making

Never knew what she meant

Until she kicked me out and I had to find a way to live

It hurts to know that I’m no longer a kid

Life is unpredictable like a brick

There are always winners and losers

But it’s not up to us to pick

We can be built with a good foundation

Yet because of a single complication

We go tumbling down

Anything could be used for good or bad

It’s only up to how you use it

And how you find it amusing

Switch up how you act you might lose a comrade

But that’s mother’s wit

Only a naive person would be certain of something

Too busy thinking of what you could be instead of rushing

I lock my doors as a form of escaping

There seems to never be any news for what it is that I’m waiting

Somehow I’m still 18 years in the making