This generation has become so lost,
The idea of perfect wrapped around,
Believing being perfect and better looking,
Is the only way out.

Because of this flaw and so much more,
We are the generation,
Who will teach our children,
To love and accept,
Everyone and everything,
No matter race, sexuality, weight or gender,
For being unique and original,
In their own special ways.

Because we know,
How much it hurts,
Being kicked and taunt,
To feel out of place,
Like somehow we just don’t belong,
And no one understands.

We are the generation,
Who will be there for our kids,
And let them know,
It’s alright to talk about their feelings.

We are the generation,
Who will not let them hide in the dark,
But bring them to the light,
Which is filled with delight.

We are the generation,
That will begin a new formation.

On my shoulder,
a raven rest.
Her talons pierce my skin,
as I hold her weight.

No one sees the raven,
I hide her very well.
The raven can never fly away,
She is bound to me.

The raven wants to be seen,
Be heard.
She screeches beside my ear,
She drives away my sanity.

The raven has been with me,
For awhile now.
At first she was small,
And barely noticeable.

As time went on,
The raven grew.
Her size grew along with her strength,
And also her desperation.

The raven wants to be free.
She wants to fly away,
To some place else,
And leave me behind.

Why did the raven come?
Why can't the raven leave?
Is the raven even real?
Am I insane?

I am the raven.
She is me.
I am she.
The raven is me.

Grazing at the moon,
Thinking how time flew,

She wrote a note,
Her hands shaking wild,
“I’m sorry I didn’t say,
But my mind was messed up,
You couldn’t save me anyway.”

Holding a hidden blade,
Tightly with pain,
She drew a picture on skin,
Yearning,
Her life would expire soon.

Tightening the line around her neck,
A ghost smile played on her lips,
As she took her final breathe.

Now it’s all gone,
All over,
She’s greeting death.