My generation does not know what to do with their hands. 

Their  minds.

We bat our eyelashes and 

Extend our fake hair

Pretend our waists didn't come from 

Popping pills and 

Complain about our own hell

Exfoliate our skin till we're made of nothing real

And what will we create?

It's too early to tell. 

My generation

Skips class

Takes the online route

Asks Siri

Get's desensitized 

Stops feeling

We left early to get a manicure

It's a dog eat dog world but

What's the use for us 

We're caught up in fairy tales and

We thought our parents fought for this

This happiness

My, what large hands you have

The whole world

In our hands?

I would cry - no

I want heads to roll

and I want to announce

In a coat of armor made of human suffering

Announce

With a helmet crafted by the Olympians

That war has begun

And you, you will fight till your death

Win battle by battle

Lose men,

And in the end 

You will still not see the treaty in

Hard work

This fight going on exists in my head

It's the cold war, part 2, me against them

Rodger that captain, their nails have been chipped

Send for help 

Make me sure I'm not

The only soldier.