Daily Times

Yes, the millenials

We, the millenials

Spoilt, messy, dirty

Ungrateful and confused

Tattered, bruised

What a messed up generation

Messed up indeed

Glare at us and shake your head

At our words

That reek of death

Pack happiness inside a pill

Smoke a blunt so your thoughts are still

Sick of the noise

Empty music drifting in

Through these ears

And emptier still—these hearts.

Unknown sadness creeping in

This young blood pumping through these veins

Into a soul that grew up too soon

We, the millenials

Broken. Used.

The television generation

Green screen addicts playing pretend

You pity us now, like they did then

You say it’s our fault

Say you’re our friends

But we are exposed

Deer caught in headlights that never dim

So much happening—all so grim

Fires and numbers

Body count after body count

Numbing us slowly

Another war. Another excuse.

Blinking acceptance, dismissing clues

Exposed to violence, death is a joke

Emotional overload.

We lie awake every night

Boring holes and crafting lies

Stuffing hollowness, building a disguise

Who taught us this slow demise?

Sorting through information

Too much for our eyes

The earth is tired

And so are we

You know what you’ve done

You’ve built machines

Cast those hearts into your work

Perfect your methods to destruct

We are children of war.

Your love you gave to building guns

And cities so vast they block our sun

So, we exist but we are hurt

We are the result

We exist—but we’re machines

Vitals stable—but lacking dreams.

Published in Daily Times, April 14^th 2018.