We were born into a world of shallow minds and deep disturbances of young millennials mimicking mindless mimes because we were told to stay in line but be yourself but follow me but think "originality."

A generation full of copycatting individuals with monotone mindsets mulling over social ladders and trends dictated by invisible monarchs of industry inviting and spoon feeding insecurities masked as improvements.

A generation spending more time pretending not to care than on passions stifled by our peer pressuring playmates who are all prescribed Vyvanse, Adderall, Ritalin for their incurable imaginations deemed "learning disabilities."

A generation of temporary friendships because no one can connect with each other but we can connect to the internet and chat with strangers and share thoughts, photos, and secrets to a virtual audience that loses interest in an entanglement of wires forming a noose around our sincerity.

Something I would tell you son
that's only known to me
a burden it is knowing alone
it's time I share with thee.

Shocking was what he revealed to me
tragic too was the tale
of a woman's loss of dignity
her passing thru fire of hell.

Her I have held in high esteem
her sanctity locked in trust
never knew she was a sad victim
of a man's monstrous lust.

My father felt it would only be fair
it needed him just to be brave
with son the secret he must share
not carry alone to the grave.

I hold it now that grave secret
father left his job was done
burdened with a heavy weight
that I can't share with son.

The woman she is still alive
knocking on ninety's door
her skin a shade of dried beehive
she remembers not anymore.

Fearful of the future,
Regretful of the past;
As for the present,
How long will this last?

I don't mean to be a bother,
or an inconvenience.
To mark upon your blankness in ink,
so settle down my thoughts
with every black line and
intention.
If I should go, say so,
please.
I do not wish to stay
unwanted.
I do not wish to intrude.

I only need a friend.
Someone to hear these trappings,
these innermost workings
which play on every insecurity,
everything I've ever done.

All I do is wrong.
All I do is hurt and
hurt others.
If you stay long enough,
I will hurt you too,
I will scribble away your life
as I do mine.

I don't want anyone to
hurt,
I just wish to
love.
And be loved
in every dark corner of myself.
But how?

As I grow older,
I grow more hated by
myself.
And if hate is all I know,
how could I ever love?
How could I ever experience another's
love?
Their compassion?
Their kindness?

So it is lost.

And I must ask,
though I mark you, tear you,
hate you,
can you love me?

Could you?