You are seventeen-years-old and you are invincible.
Invincibility has made you reckless. That's why fire doesn't scare you. That's why you don't remember to turn off the lights or dot your i's. That's why you fall without fear, and the end of the world can't come soon enough. Your bones will never break, and neither will your heart. You are invincible and you take a bullet to the head like a kiss there, right there, right on the temple and straight out the other side. Your blood is just sugar water, you can fly if you want to. You laugh too much. And since you never have to stop running, why stay here?
You're young. And your voice sounds better loud. You don't want to grow up, so you don't have to, at least not today. Death is funny because it's so simple. If you're about to starve to death: don't. If you're about to jump: don't.
You wear your invincibility like a pair of wings, or a strike-anywhere match. And when you fly, your long hair will not get caught in the airplane's engine. And when you sing, the whole world will fall at your feet.
You get away with everything. You're immortal. You're a young god, and glorious and terrible as a new sun, with more gravity and righteous fire than anything you could have made up on your own. You're timeless, so you have all the time in the world. And you waste your time. You waste your time gracefully, because time is something for the weak of heart. Even the shape of you is apocalyptic.
Open your veins and your wings and your mind, you can live forever. You can live forever.
Society wanted me young: here I am.