Schrodinger's Monster

Being a teenager means 

Schrodinger's cat isn't just a concept anymore 

The person you are 

is simultaneously alive and dead 

in the box you were put in 

Nothing fits you 

not your awkward limbs 

not your angry, red skin 

not your aching heart or exhausted brain 

nothing feels human 

And the cardboard walls that were built around you 

seem too flimsy for a cage or to be protection 

You resent that they were built at all 

and so you poke holes for air and anguish 

but you shrink back, afraid to show your morphing face 

Being a teenager means

waiting with Schrodinger's cat on your shoulder, holding your tongue

until your strike of lightning comes 

and the box is opened, so you find out

if you are dead

or if you have finally come alive.