of rants and poems.

rebellion

unedited

I am a specimen.

I am to be analyzed.

Talked down to.

Figured out.

I am not my own person.

No brain.

No opinions.

I am only to be studied.

To be told what is right and wrong

And to be told to think only one way.

But I will fight.

Because I am not an alien.

I am only human.

I'm not disrespectful

Or sarcastic.

I'm not rebelling.

Just growing.

And I can't help but wonder

When adults joke about those years

The problematic teenage years

I can't help but want to ask them

If that's only because they're older now.

The child old enough to think.

Make decisions.

Push at the barriers you set.

Because they need to set their own.

You can't lay down concrete

For a route to the perfect child.

You can't study me

For simply growing up.

You can't tell me I'm being difficult

When you tell me not to be rude

For only stating my own thoughts.

You cannot treat me horribly

And not let me do the same.

Respect my existence.

Or expect the resistance.

Because every barrier you set down?

Horrid.

Every barrier you fight to keep?

Drives me away.

I wonder if I'll tell my children

To tell me if I step over the line

Something I could never say to you.

Maybe I'll tell them I love them

No matter what problems they have.

Even the mental illnesses.

And I'll mean it.

Unlike you.

Maybe I'll find ways to ease their anxiety.

Instead of telling them

To get over it.

Maybe I'll help them when they're depressed.

Instead of telling them

That it's just a phase.

Or to stop being so angsty.

Maybe I'll tell them to be whoever they want.

And I won't try to change their dreams.

I won't tell them that

they need to find something else.

and that their dreams won't make money.

I won't tell them who to look up to.

I won't look at them weird

when they bring up different sexualities.

And I'll tell them they can come to me

and let me know who they love.

What gender.

Or personality.

Or religion.

Of theirs is the best.

They'll be able to tell me anything

Unlike you.

And I'll tell them why I have scars.

I'll tell them why I treat them

Like they are my whole world.

I'll tell them what you did to me.

I'll tell them you cared.

But in the wrong way.

A kind of limited love.

It pushes you one way or the other.

If you step out of line.

And when they become teenagers.

I'll read everything they write

Look at everything they draw.

Stop work to talk to them and do things with them.

And I'll never call them rebellious or wrong.

I'll celebrate.

Because these are real people.

People coming into the world.

Living, breathing, feeling people.

With unique minds.

No barriers anymore.

They're not specimen.

Or aliens.

They're amazing.

Not study subjects.

Not rebellious.

Growing.

And the problem with the adult generation

Is that they all see us

As problems.

And rebels.

Just waiting to explode.