An ode to teenage!

Tell them not to tell us what to do,

Actions speak much louder than words!

We learn from what we see.

Tell them not to dictate us what clothes to choose,

For we are so much more than

What we wear!

That torn jeans, those high heels,

That flurry skirt, or taffeta, and lying there,

Yes, my dirty mud-soaked canvas shoes!

The hemlines, ragged jeans,

All these do not define me, or what I do!

I have in me the fire to burn the whole galleon down.

A raging sea, a silent storm! A zephyr in its quest!

That solitary reaper in the field; Wordsworth’s daffodil,

Dante’s Inferno, Joyce’s Ulysses, 

I am Yeats, Byron, Keats and Shelly,

An ode to a summer song!

I am all that and more.

I am a Grecian Urn.

I am a rebellion, a cause for an uprising,

A threat to social stigmata,

A hoax to what is called civilian; a smokescreen!

A wired dream, chaffed against the shackles of societal norms,

Waiting, struggling,

Trying to break free,

From their Doll’s House.

Oh my imagination take me with thee.

In my search for utopia, I will cross the tumultuous seven seas,

Climb the mighty Olympus, duel Ajax, fight off the Kraken,

I will travel to the Arctic,

Plummet to the deep depths of Verne’s centre of the earth!

Unless these sojourns take me where I want to be!

At the tribunals of humanity, I will be tried and tested,

Akin to those who have left before me,

Or are yet to come,

Yet, I will emerge a winner every time;

And keep this rebellion aflame!