Sometimes I can’t help but wonder
If you ever still think about me
If I ever cross your mind at all
And if you’ve ever once felt guilty

Because I still think about you
Much more often than I desire
And every single time I do
It’s like my brain’s been set on fire

I think about the person I once was
Hopeful, jubilant, and carefree
Every day was an exciting adventure
And my whole life was ahead of me

But you took all that happiness away
With your words as sharp as knives
Its amazing, through so much mental abuse
How the body still survives

Because you caused so much damage
That it has lasted all this time
And though the scars were never visible
What you did should be a crime

Even though I left you years ago
Your words live on within me
It makes me feel like I am trapped
And from this pain, I can never flee

They say “Forgiveness doesn’t make you weak”
And that “Its what can finally set you free”
But I could never find it in me to forgive you
Because you destroyed all the good I had in me

I hate the taste of bourbon,
Feels too far from urban,
It makes me think of home.
Small talk,
Small flock,
Small minds.
Art on my body,
Unique or a hobby?
"How will you feel when you're old?"
I love being different,
But not the feeling that comes with it,
Being worn down by squares.
I hate the taste of bourbon,
It's almost disturbing,
How badly I want to be alone in a crowd.

We are a generation,
Indeed, a nation,
Raised upon foreign warring.
Scapegoat aggravation.
Bushes and *****
Clamoring for horror and hoarding.

Conspiring against a population,
I watch through youthful aging.
With my childlike eyes, I see
The target they're blaming:
Afghan families having more
in common with me,
Working class American,
Than those transparent heirs
With the world's wealth and arrogance,
Ordering for the villagers' obliteration
Through boys from our nation.

We are a generation raised
On media sensation
Of militarized devastation;
Animal exploitation;
Technological manifestations
Providing privacy infiltration.
Material attainments;
Mental frustrations;
Fiat debt enslavement;
A nation entranced by
Senseless parading.

Tempting decadence and
Announcements with no evidence.
The September bounty of edifice
That fell with no hesitance
Still echo its unfounded,
Preemptive pretenses.

This murderous reign;
this senseless parade;
Advertisement cyclical
in their game of charades;
Dog on a chain;
Famine causing no pain.
Permissible opinions
To be solely maintained.

The damage, the waste,
The heinous race and class chase.
Oppression remains thoughtlessly dangerous,
As moral responsibility brings no attainments.
Chowing down on maimed millions
Bellowing from enslavement.

Fortunately, elder,
Rothschild, Rockefeller, or
Those above them whom
Remain blackened, faceless:
Resistance shall come
From all places, all ages.
Such as this generation of mine
Inheriting increasing complications,
With the type of America
You wish to keep in rotation.

I'll carry the flag containing
Your mistakes as a symbol,
To remind those behind me
What not to rekindle.

To the Boomer who stews
In your white collar suit,
Still refusing to shake
Your destructive pursuit,
Still asking me to lick
Off authority's boot:

Growing up in this nation,
With childhood innocence,
I grew increasingly aware
Of the land of such ignorance.
I had such thoughts since
Early adolescence,
I was not blind to larger lessons.
Only since supported by
Actual, factual supported confessions.

To the Boomer tied to his convictions,
Now will you see-
That isn't going to work
For us or for me.
I'll bring to this world
Whatever I please.
Which so happens to be
Truth, justice, and peace.

Love should leave you feeling full,
Never empty or cold.
You tended to my well so well,
So I am yours, adore.
A water-based creation
Should have fresh-flowing hydration,
Within tangible flesh and
Replenishing the Spirit, yes,
You leave my skin soft.