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I was here before the universe was formed Total darkness surrounded me And then there were celestial lights When no life form existed, I was here I am not what you think I am
They were an older couple, married nearly nineteen years. Four kids between the ages of four and sixteen. Their life was ruled by jobs and bills and schedules, they’d seen the world and settled down.
it’s 2017 the closet doesn’t have a door there’s still monsters inside amongst binders and gender-neutral clothes if you’re a millennial
Lisa Frank is dead, She's buried in the ground, And with her lies our childhood, Still, without a sound. With every generation, A passing interest dies, Wait a couple decades,
To my son. My baby has blood on his hands, dripping red fingers smeared across oceans and continents. Imperialism breeds imperialism and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
Life and death both in front of me In an instant I can see through sixty-nine years I can see your mother and your father So much joy they must have had the day that you entered the world
Hot, sticky, and wet
I am a millennial, a ‘Y’ Part of the Global Generation Born between the birth of AIDS And 9/11
You wake up, weary from living these 85 years Your spine anchors you down, you struggle simply to get out of bed Your body has betrayed you; it demands glasses to see, canes to walk, aids to hear
I feel like the decades have hitten a rough path. Seeing people my age or even younger, acting like maniacs. YOLO, has made things worse. Really? You didn't know you only live once?
I am the product of the underestimation of a generation I am the result of too many open ears and not enough open minds I cannot cry for I cannot disturb others with my tears
The way we see ourselves is a very powerful thing. It not only builds or breaks the fortress around us it allows others to step into our realms and puncture our castles. It displays vulnerability and hides destruction.
Is there ever going to be a difference in the way we look at one another? Are we ever going to love one another? When will we stop criticizing one another and grow up?
You bred me As a child of imagination and intellect. You fed me half-baked expectations Slathered in cookie-cutter dreams. Malnourished by your monotonous instruction,
In order for us to grow, as a society, people have to know when to stop and think, without reacting. We’ve grown to where we are at today, but there’s still a KKK.
We are infinitely clueless, yet eager to learn more; and smiles mean the world to us, as loneliness can be so pervasive.
Sometimes I hate my generation. Each of us a carbon copy of the next. iPhone, designer jackets, caffeinated beverage in hand. I hate how we are so absorbed in social media that we let ourselves get lost for hours