𝑃𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑃𝑜𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑦

𝗘𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻

𝐸𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛

The answer always being this number.
This, as society says "adult age" number.
The number when I'll stop asking.
The changes, about only me, that you don't want to hear me asking.
These changes that'll make you be "teary eyes" sad.
Too bad, that until then, everyday with "teary eyes" I'll be sad.
But I'm just a child, how could I know?
Well, it's my fucking body, how could you know?
You know, because your answer will always stay this number.
This, as you say "old enough" number.
Eighteen.