Thirteen to nineteen: the rabbit hole years,
endless fun in the sun with no money,
egotistical, fathead friends swagger
needlessly, their peacock feathers emerge
at the appearance of any old hen,
granted, nobody is old in high school
except teachers and administrators.
Remember how we snubbed the snobs, funny
even then, we thought we knew what was cool,
just because we felt left out, we'd stagger
every which way, suffering, drunk with tears,
creating our own scene, a primal urge
to scream as therapy, we broke down doors,
still, no one liked our parties, way back when.
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