Limbo

Looking down from my window,
I stare at the children below,
Yet my desperate desire to join them,
I am not allowed to show.

They play and laugh so happy,
It seems they do not have a care.
From my window I burn with jealously,
It seems so unjust and unfair.

I am too old to play with them,
Too old to laugh and be carefree.
So old that people would talk,
And unfairly laugh at me.

Though just because I’m too old,
Does not mean I am as old as I crave to be.
I realize I’m still far too young for them,
Too young for them to even see.

I’m too young to be called an adult,
Having not yet reached that season.
Too young to be included in their conversations,
For I am immature and have no reason.

Just like a lingering soul,
Trapped between the living and the dead.
Completely stuck in limbo,
Frustrated inside my head.

Though time is something I cannot change,
I really have no choice but to wait.
I have to persevere and be patient,
And accept the hand of fate.

For if I wait, as I surely will,
Though tedious as it may be,
Adulthood will come forth in time,
And grab a hold of me.