When I was seven years old, I told myself I would never write. English was my worst subject, see And the story I had written about a man with a pet frog Was black and white and gray when you compared it to Emily's story. With the mouse and the airplane and the moss. The whole class loved Emily's story.   When I was thirteen years old, I told myself I would never smoke. I had just finished DARE, see And the policeman smiled at me when I answered questions And I got one of the free carabiners at the end of the talk The whole school loved that.   When I was sixteen years old, I told myself I knew what I wanted, see I wanted to live a life of black and white And smoke cigarettes that would never kill me. And make sure my hair was always perfectly out of place And keep the bass in my car at +3 always.   I'm seventeen years old. Writing is my passion. I quit smoking six months ago. And I do know what I want, at least I think I do. I want to see the sun set over the Atlantic Ocean. I want to see it rise over the Pacific. I want to meet girls who always make the first move And think about colors and light and city lights at sunset, I want to write to whatever music I'd like. I want a world where we know exactly what happens when we die And it's beautiful, With ten thousand new colors that only that one insect with 45 rods and cones (or something like that) could have dreamed of.   I have no doubt I'll look back at this poem and laugh. I know I'll change, see. But at least it'll be vibrant. At least I'll know what I meant. At least I'll read it, and not think of black, or white.