Little Long Legs

I live my life

Like a coming of age film

Won't stop for some time

'Cause I'm coming of age still

Sometimes people are mean

So I used to hide in the washing machine

But my legs kept on growing

And I got to knowing

That I wouldn't fit anymore

Sometimes I still go back

But my legs dangle out of the door

Lately skipping on school is the route I prefer to take more

What does that make of me?

Why do I keep on growing?

Looking forward to annual things

Not my birthday, try New Year's Eve

Once a year, we start a nеw year

Yet again, it's not guaranteed

Looking forward to less nowadays

Wondеr if age plays a part

Hope my brush doesn't run out of paint

Before I even start

But where's my field of flowers?

Where's the soulmate that I meet by chance?

Least I don't have to race 'gainst the terminal tropes of romance

But I wouldn't mind rain

Or to only speak solely in

Poetry quotes or a dance

Or a ticket to France

I find myself stepping on ants accidentally

What does that make of me?

Why do I keep on growing?

What does that make of me?

Why do I keep on growing?

I realize that I'm coming of age still

I think I might be just coming of age 'til

The day that I cease to exist

Roll the credits, I insist

Someday I may just wrinkle

And shrink down enough to still fit

The washing machine

And I'll hide from my worries as my credits roll down on the screen