'do not grow up, it's but a trap!' i wish i had been told,
when i was young, while growing up, before i'd become old;
they'll laden you with chores and jobs, and dinners, stale and cold,
with adult responsibilities, and bills of the untold!
a hundred thousand and two score more of duties to be done,
then add about fifty-two more for each accomplished one;
while toiled away with worries including all under the sun,
and trying to convince yourself 'at least i'm having fun'.
'don't get a job, it's just a farce!' i wish they'd told me so,
while i was young, like bamboo shoots, while i had yet to grow;
what is it for? just money's sake? i've heard worse, i suppose,
a vital evil for a house, a car, and to propose.
and on that note, i wish they'd warned me, 'never fall in love!'
for what the heart has deigned for is from hell and high above;
that best you can do for the one is stop short of enough,
much like a fleeting, despondent, and skulking caged white dove.
but most of all, i wish that they'd told me just this one thing -
i wish they'd told me that we're all but mere and mortal beings;
'do not grow old, for with it comes all ailments, sickness, death,
and torments filled with dread regrets you'll hold with your last breath'.
not all is lost, however dreary made but all these naughts, there's hope yet still for all your children, brazen by the bunch:
'if all with growing is but fright, and sign of your demise, know that you're still an adult and can have ice cream for lunch'.