Grown adults can act
like poor, sad, childish bullies
sat behind a screen.

Dear Generation X,
Please take a step or fifteen back,
if that is what it takes to make you see
that some of you are thoroughly misjudging me.

Dear Generation X,
Please stop sh-tting on me when you
see me in a low-paid job because you
think that I'm uneducated, when in fact I'm
earning my own money to help fund my education.

Dear Generation X,
Please don't patronise me every
time I raise my voice with an opinion
of my own, prepared to eloquently argue
up against others more than twice my age, restraining my
own temper so that I remain polite, whilst condescendingly
you reply with "you're a little brat" who should "f-ck off and find her manners."

Dear Generation X,
Please refrain from moaning about
how the youth of today's generation
never have anything intelligent to say
when you place gags in our mouths, or that we're all too thick-skulled
and should go back to school, whilst simultaneously shouting at
us all to "get a job" and "buy a house", when many of us are drowning
in student loans, granted for gaining the knowledge needed to bag a "decent job."

Dear Generation X,
Stop trapping me.

Lord, raise my hands and guide my feet,
let me another pathway meet.
Conceal my pain and break my fast,
Lord, light the dark that eats my past.
And when I trip, Lord, help me stand;
pray, hold me in your loving hand.
Have mercy on my faithless heart
and show me kindness as I start
to walk the way you've made for me;
release my chains, Lord, set me free.

I watch the raindrops dance again,
out here in gentle quietness.
They wash away my salty tears
and offer me forgiveness.
I dance with them barefoot among
the falling leaves of Autumn's kiss,
each raindrop leaving trails upon
my skin, so tracing rays of bliss.
They patter on the gasping ground,
their healing sings a soothing rush.
As evening falls, their lullaby
brings soft a tender hush.

A poet writes upon the heart
and sings among the shining stars,
each scribble painting portraits vast
as each mind hums and wanders past
their secret dreams and battle scars,
and turns thoughts into glorious art.