Sonnet Youth
Tempestuous
teenager, hark ye
this,
Through
your hedge of hair
and cage of
piercings
And attitude all vinegar
and piss:
Time’s
harsh
lessons smart like many
bee stings.
Oh, so the world fails to understand you,
And everyone, all of them, make
you sick?
In your room
strewn with soiled
underpants you
Pop your spots
as walls tremble to music.
Your
puss-filled bubble-wrap face will grow
smooth,
But cruel age
will etch a wretched road map
Of the way
to wisdom’s final tollbooth,
And your new
tunes are tomorrow’s lame crap.
Don’t
take offence if I call you
a bore,
For I was once like you in days of
yore.
(c)Frank Rooney
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