Seventeen

I didn’t kill you,
Or pack up your stuff.
I even talked with you-
After your disastrous stunt.
Your mind stays closed-
While the mouth is open wide-
And soon from your mistakes…
There will be nowhere to hide.
Time is short-
That my influence has left-
And the lessons you needed to learn-
You clearly have yet to get.
How much pain will you cause?
How many bridges must your burn?
A troubled adulthood is looming-
I pray for a different turn.
Being 17 doesn’t come with rights-
But more opportunities to explore…
Yet you have wasted them all…
By choosing the troubled door.
So much need you have for control-
And less parental road blocks in place-
Yet you put more blocks there-
In your repeated arrogant haste.
I have allowed you to live-
But that’s all I can do…
Changing your direction in time-
Is unfortunately only up to you.

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