An Open Letter to Generation Y:

Please don’t refer to us as “batches”

y’know, like prototype after prototype after prototype

we didn’t ask to be struck and burned out like matches

and while you wait for the time we’re ripe,

we dread joining the assembly line of life.

So tell us, what’s with all the hype

when the competition will only bring strife

to us kids who must fight and cry and whine?

In this language we use, it’s not fine

to tell a student they’re not human

if we don’t have the test score, in fact it’s a crime

we’re full of toxic thoughts and fearful fumes and

don’t blame us for the world you built-

yeah, just go back to your suburb

pantry full of rosemary and cumin

pretend that you don’t feel the guilt

for asking your child to be a corporate robot

that will one day turn on you, explode, and wilt

and you’ll say, “Well I thought…”

Well you know, I think that you should

take a closer look at the world we’ve got.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country

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