6:17
Location
//time magazine calls us the “me me me” generation-
they say we’re lost in a digital age and no google
search could find us.
we’re made out to be robotic
narcissistic runaways defined in
140-character memoirs
and double-tap love songs
that they just don’t understand
no matter how hard
they (don’t) try.
you once told me the screens of our cell phones
are brighter than that of our futures-
well i’ll tell you that it’s easy to feel mediocre
in a world full of hypocrites telling us we’re
all the same-
right, we’re the same-
then disparaging our differences like they make us
something less than
human,
when somewhere between valencia trees
and sepia skies lies just that-
a human being.
because it’s 6:00 on a sunday morning
(partly cloudy)
and i think i’ve finally found
myself-
i am the drawings in a high school
kid’s notebook and my
father’s long-lost dream.
i am morning nostalgia and
midnight fear.
i am deliberately indecisive
and unconsciously intentional
and i could never quite pave the
way to perfection.
i count hours in crinkled eyes,
days in upturned smiles and
years in happy tears.
so here’s to the kids like me-
the hopeless romantics,
the one-way dreamers,
the certain skeptics,
the true believers,
the lunch room wallflowers,
the homecoming queens,
the future wikipedia pages
and the revolution leaders-
slap on that filter and call it
a night,
but realize that underneath your
makeup lies
eyes that have just barely seen the earth,
hands barely calloused by its touch,
and a mind that knows so much and
has so much yet to
k n o w.
they say we’re as naïve as the universe
and as fake as the stars,
and as their hope for our world fizzles at
the seems so does their hope for us-
for you.
for me.
so search up your name.
read your story.
discover that you’re something-
and if you’re not,
you have more than enough time to be-
because it’s 6:17 on a sunday morning
and i think i’ve finally found
myself.//
This poem is about:
Me
Our world