The Keeper of the Dead

Too Young

I rack my young brain for answers.
Forming opinions
From the experiences I've got.
It's not easy being here
When half the country is against you.
It's hard to make your judgments
With each side
Spewing lies,
Destroying the process
With their infantile games.

I watch the news,
Heated by debate
And fueled by anger.
Half saying the other is misinformed,
While both of them lie,
Like little children
Haggling for candy.
Cheating, shouting and whining again.
No matter the outcome
The pettiness won't end.
Impassioned, yes
But passion misplaced.
To stand against the populace
But not to be attacked,
Is to stand silent, not heard.

Eighteen years
Is eighteen years too young
For such a decision, some say
Yet you're the ones
Who deny others
Their sacred right
You bully, you tattle and you brag
Like kids on a playground
Playing too rough

But I'm to one who is too young.