I don't have any teens as of yet, but this is a subject close to my heart. I wrote a poem as part of my A Level English on this topic last year. It's free verse and not that good but this is my thoughts on it.
At twenty and one,
It will all come good.
From ten,
Box is closed, Sealed in.
Scratching to be heard.
No one hears them,
No one listens.
Chemicals abound,
Fill them up.
Their head carries a peak,
Hood on their shoulders;
Quick they're on the attack!
Don't you see it's a label?
They are the accused, innocent still.
Fleshy cheeks are gone,
In mind still,
They are babes.
Not a boundary set,
Confusion is there,
Show them the way.
As for the bunch
A few rot, yes.
But to throw the whole lot away,
Is danger and waste.
My mum is a foster carer who cares for young offenders. Alot of these kids when away from their peers are completely different to what most imagine them to be like.