They don’t realize it

But they do

They are expected to know everything

They are expected to be perfected

By imperfect people

They are expected to know what they want

But there are

Oh, so many

Only so many.

Recycled choices to choose from.

Crushed, suffocated.

No grace for mistakes

No freedom to learn

Pounded into a mold shaped

By generations before

Yet when they don’t fit it’s their fault.

Expected to win

Expected to fix

Expected to be

An idea someone created for a past society.

But they need to be new

They need to be different

They need time to


The future.

And they will.

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741