As I wander aimlessly
I think to myself, wonderingly,
At only sixteen, what can I be?
With so many things I want to achieve,
They seem impossible at only sixteen
Feeling dejected,
With a loss of self-esteem
I wish that I were twenty-three,
For then I could do anything
As long as I believe
Getting so jealous and envious
Of those that are famous,
I want to do something with my life
Instead of just a future stay-at-home wife
I wish my dreams could be a reality
Instead of a hopeless tragedy,
I wish they could come true today,
But I know they are many years away
I suppose I can wait
And dream another dream,
Because at only sixteen,
I can be me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem