Smells Like Teen Spirit's Dead Poem by Ayn Timmerman

Annual perpetual teenagers.
Really it’s not so bad,

I can feel it, the loss of freedom,
the gain of grievances

against them
against you
against ourselves
against god
against age

That song will loose all meaning, sorry Cobain.
I’m afraid-
of taxes
of insurance
of mortgages
of spouses
of houses

of it all.

Acne’s gone, spirit too.
It’s all out now, what’s my age?
Too young to forget, to old to pretend,

but I’ll fake it ‘till I’m dead.

So help me, I’ll fake it until that day,
please don’t judge my innocence
or loss thereof.

It’s probably gone.
Lost, with debts to pay.
No more say than anyone else.