Generation Ours.
The glaze of our generation, reads across the impression of a nation
And as we sit behind our computer screens
They judge I think
And rather assume that our makeup is only that
Of those who smoke and drink:
Of those who swear and curse, and fail
To think beyond
LOL
ROTFL
LMAO,
Instead dabbling only in the time to laugh and be loud.
We are numbed by that bright white screen, they believe,
That reads across our faces through all hours of the night we so occupy.
And often times they wonder, how we even manage to get by.
Our superiors, our leaders:
The fearless, with morals strong as cedars.
That never once in their day,
Turned away
To take in the easygoing way,
The steady pace of simplicity
Against the stinging sting of the real world
Who never once, embraced those last few moments of peace.
Before they broke off-
Into-
The deep dark tangle-
Of maturity.
Who, of course, were never once young
And could never once understand,
What it was like,
To rejoice in those last few seasons
Of freedom.
