We're all in a conspiracy
About our own maturity.
We like to say that we're grown up;
How true is that, if we own up?
Inside, some think they're still eighteen,
Although a mirror mocks that dream;
And others stop at twenty-four,
Adult outside, but nothing more.
The hope is that we age with grace,
not minding wrinkles on our face;
When I'm grown up, I want to be
A person who can live with me.
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