Was looking through my old files today in a wave of nostalgia and found this poem. I wrote it when I was still getting used to being sixteen and find that, one year later, I feel pretty much the same about being seventeen.
Sixteen is a delicate set of scales, a tightrope
The slightest shift in weight will tear your world apart.
Sixteen is uncertainty, and complacency
Hamartia and hubris
Pure joy or raw rage
Overconfidence—and fear itself.
Life in nauseating, dizzying, focus.
The world getting heavy suddenly.
The perfect time to seize the day.
Delight in your independence.
Sixteen is power,
That age to reassert yourself
A load of ********, often
But even so, sixteen is…