Oh 16!

Like a wildflower on the top of a hill
16 was innocent, 16 was carefree
16 never cared what the world thought about him
16 never bothered to care about the world
16 had his own world
And 16 lived in it
16 wasn’t philosophical
16 did not know what’s wrong and right
16 never was good at maths
Thus, 16 never measured the quality of his days
16 never counted the quantity of his friends

Like a wildflower on the top of a hill
16 was pure, 16 was untouched by any worldly despair
But alas! 16 never could cease to exist
Somewhere along came 17
And took him away, took away that innocence
The changing seasons, the changing days
The bees all over to lift him away
Beaten by the storm,
Poured down in the rain
Once again, there was a starry sky
Even brighter days
But the 16 he was
Could never be the same.

Like a wildflower on the top of a hill
16 had his days.

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