Some go to the mall,
Some go to basketball.
The ones that have fun at night,
Are then running from the police in fright.
The ones known for looks,
Aren’t good with the books.
The ones that have fun with boys,
Are then seen as toys.
Either blessed with freedom,
Or dying of boredom.
Six hours of school a day,
Waiting for the month after May.
Parents yelling,
Siblings telling.
People saying what you should eat,
In the end you feel beat.
The life of a teenager.
Some go to basketball.
The ones that have fun at night,
Are then running from the police in fright.
The ones known for looks,
Aren’t good with the books.
The ones that have fun with boys,
Are then seen as toys.
Either blessed with freedom,
Or dying of boredom.
Six hours of school a day,
Waiting for the month after May.
Parents yelling,
Siblings telling.
People saying what you should eat,
In the end you feel beat.
The life of a teenager.
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