Another drunken poem ​dodie

It's 1 am, I'm tired and cold.
There's bugs flying in my room
A pile of laundry,
An unmade bed,
I'm home so late,
I'm doomed.

I'm eighteen years old
And I'm moving out
Because I'm allowed to

I'm poor and I'm scared
I'm young and useless
Who knows what I'm meant to do?

Swings and Slides,
Balloons and play
School and the careless past

Now a job and rent
My future and cash
I've got to grow up
And fast.