I tried to
write
a poem about you
but instead
I scribbled a
big, orange-ink blob
and I figured
that made
just as much sense.

Look at me.

An invitation that demands.
A clenched fist paired with open hands.
Now what I ask of you is far more great
than casting gazes over faces.
No. I invite your soul to look in mine;
A true communion slighting wine.
I want to know your joy and pain,
feel tear drops fall like gentle rain.
I need to see your secret smiles,
take comfort in your cheers or trials.
These seconds, drawing out like years.
We live through all our darkest fears,
intricately, intimately, bound with breath.
Each heartbeat sounds the death of death
as I look into you, and you in me,
gaining strength from strength at what we see.
For eyes, they say, are mirrors to the soul,
and your eyes reflect my heart whole.

An angel sits above my head
and spreads her gentle wings over
my tormented and tireless dreams. 
The battleground that is my bed
she calmly silences, her
kisses cooling stifled screams.

My angel knows my dark inside,
for she was with me from the start.
How fitting is the irony;
She was the me I tried to hide.
But something changed within my heart,
and now my demon saves me.

She flickers softly, hoping that
no one will see her glowing.
So every day I watch her simmer
on, instead of growing.

This tiny spark that warms my heart
each time I catch her beaming,
her dimpled smiles and catchy laughs,
the murmurs as she's dreaming.

A lantern for my darkest days;
So willingly she came.
So now I need to feed her light
and save my little flame.

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.