To Come-Of-Age.

Born naked, we leapfrog the early milestones with relative ease.
Early teens, fuming genes, life beckons just like the lightest breeze.
The latter teens turn out harder, yet we hang on to what we've seen around,
We think, "plunge in with the majority or be like the educated fools and vanish in the ground".

We scamper, down the legit corridors where we're shown a way,
Whilst treading albeit, some still scamper while some merry away.
Most have a relentless urge as they're bemoaned by some harsh realities.
Few possess the burning surge to make the bemoaning cease.

Some travel across the oceans, to find a life far away from where they'd really live.
Others participate in the race next door, still fighting the battle of the battles.
Yet there is this unnerving verve of dissatisfaction and unhappiness.
Before soon they unscript the perfect script to unlearn the self-brought mess.

Some pick up the batten of their burning passions; the struggle though still prevails.
These alienated species are few and far between, for whom all logic always fails.
We all belong to the same planet of "life" wherein it rotates more, at its own unforgiving pace.
But an even rarer species are those who totally embrace their granted race.

So in whichever philosophical region you'd find yourself to be in this planet's physical map,
We all sure hope there's light at the end of the tunnel on the political version of the same.
The geographical decisions you'd make will be determined by the choices you'd geologically create.
For in the planet of aliens and humans; struggle, hope, failure and effort will govern one's fate.