Something...

He was a lad of sixteen
Rebel for reasons he thought
A dreamer,reluctant enough
Of actually growing up.
Dreams had wings,not limits
Life was precise,though
Days turned pages of the past
He defied,giving in
One more time,the sun creeped in
Through the overnight dreams to reality
He did finally grow up
Wearing the mascara of the burnt cigarettes of time
Only that he was arrogant enough
To dream,even in the absence of sleep
And today he walks a road
Dreams on one end,life on the other
A rebel,lasting seven summers
Ends,dawning a new sun
The war won,he smiles at me
I smile at the mirror.....