I am an adult in a child's body,
Borrowing Mommy's risque red lipstick,
Wearing her sky high black heels, and
Strutting around with her cell phone in my hand.

I am an adult in a child's body,
Who fantasizes about the pink car I'll own,
The bags and short dresses I'll own and wear, while
Pondering the mystery of adulthood with a smile.

I am undecided in an adolescent's body,
Not knowing where to go.
To stay young or just grow up already?
To let go of innocence and wake up in a bed that is not mine,
Or cling to it like the stuffed teddy bear in my room.

I am undecided in an adolescent's body,
I don't want to grow up and gain responsibility, yet
I crave the freedom my driver's license gives me and the 
Thrill a boys lips offers me since my parent's say I still can't date.
I want to get out of here already, but I'm scared and might not want to as well.

I am a child in an adult's body,
Wondering where the time went as I scurry to my job,
Trying to make sense of this person who would ditch
Pencil skirts for bedazzled jeans,
Bobby pins for butterfly clips, and
High heels for pink light up sneakers anyday.

I am a child in an adult's body,
Who craves the freedom I once had.
Where responsibilities were foreign to me,
And I only had to care about who tucked me in at night.
A license and a bottle of whiskey doesn't give me the satisfaction
I thought it would, it only numbs the pain and the
Existential Crisis.

I am a child in an adult's body,
Who, in a hearbeat, would travel back in time,
And tell my six year old self to enjoy it while she could.
Adulthood has hidden hurdles, I'd tell her, and the sparkling paradise can wait,
For growing up too fast to enjoy the real freedom,
Is robbing yourself of the freedom you dreamed of.