Our adolescence leaves us like ink-blotched stains
For I cannot bend this coming-of-age archetype
And I must contain this lion that must be tamed
With not enough fight and too much hype.
Our heartaches are like scattered splinters
Wondering when the pain has ended
And these sore thumbs that cannot hinder
The self-approval that allows me to blend in.
Our minds create illusions with preconceived notions
Not allowing us to remove our masks
Parents unsure of who produced these commotions
For we have strayed away from our tasks.
Our bodies are borrowed for the tenacious war
No telling how many seek self-medication
We have cried out with wings ready to soar
As the next generation arrives for our nation.