What a Terrible Age — Eighteen!

What a Terrible Age — Eighteen!

At eighteen, there's no fear of age or strife,

It seeks to break through walls of stone and fate,

This age knows not how to bow its head —

At eighteen, tears don’t dominate.

It knows the sacred pride of shedding blood,

It charges forth like steamers on a tide,

To give or take a life means little then,

In shouts and clashes, ideals collide.

At eighteen, life feels fierce and raw,

Each living breath bears endless pain,

This age tears time apart with fire,

And whispers madness in the brain.

At eighteen, strength becomes a storm,

It spreads like wild winds through the land,

But when grief strikes and balance shakes —

A thousand souls break trying to withstand.

At eighteen, strikes fall like curses —

One by one, they gather and grow.

This age bears dark marks of sorrow,

It trembles in pain, silent and low.

Yet in eighteen, we’ve heard the sound of victory,

It survives the storms and braves the tide.

In the face of danger, this age stands tall,

It creates anew, with fire inside.

This age is no coward, not faint of heart,

It never stops upon the way.

At eighteen, there is no doubt or fear —

Let eighteen rise in this land today.

The poem explores the intense, fearless, and turbulent nature of being eighteen. At this age, youth is bold, unafraid of hardship, and driven by passion and ideals. It challenges obstacles, embraces pain, and carries a deep sense of purpose—even risking everything for what it believes in. Though the age is marked by suffering and emotional turmoil, it also holds strength, resilience, and the potential for transformation. Eighteen may be reckless, but it is never cowardly. In the end, the poet urges this fiery spirit to rise and lead the nation with courage and conviction.