Apr 2015
Don't tell me to get of my phone and play hopscotch in the wilting paddy fields across the house
the same paddy field that decorated the chest of every newspaper last Thursday, written across the title in bold; 6 year old girl strangled to death
don't tell me to get off my couch and try make some friends
the same friends that got my neighbour's daughter gangraped at her sixteenth birthday party
don't tell me to only fall in love with a person of the opposite gender,
not after hearing the screams of the lady across these cracked walls, whom as usual would make excuses to cover up the reasons behind the galaxy toned punch scars across her no longer smooth skin, a result of being beaten up by her drunk husband each night
don't tell me writing isn't going to get me anywhere, that only science will, not after you've seen me bleed across these pages trying to make you understand my passion and love for writing & trust me when I say these numbers & stupid scientific terms will never be able to diffuse into my numb skull the way these lovely letters have
don't tell me that the numbers written on one piece of paper that is graded by a person who probably had a million and one reasons to make me fail, defines my intelligence, not after looking at that girl from high school who failed her maths & ended up becoming a world renowned poet
don't tell me that it's right to hate a person because they were born a shade darker than I am, not after the person who saved my life that summer night I was sprawled across the bathroom floor, overdosed on drugs, was 'fifteen shades darker' than me
don't tell me that I don't have a right to stand up to you because I'm younger than you, not after a 50 year old man ***** his 12 year old student; in no way does your age define your maturity
and dear generation X & Y,
don't tell me what is wrong and right, for I am old enough to face the consequences of my actions, for there is no way I will learn without making mistakes,
and dear generation X & Y,
we'll show you how life should be lived.
Thank you, sit down.
the same paddy field that decorated the chest of every newspaper last Thursday, written across the title in bold; 6 year old girl strangled to death
don't tell me to get off my couch and try make some friends
the same friends that got my neighbour's daughter gangraped at her sixteenth birthday party
don't tell me to only fall in love with a person of the opposite gender,
not after hearing the screams of the lady across these cracked walls, whom as usual would make excuses to cover up the reasons behind the galaxy toned punch scars across her no longer smooth skin, a result of being beaten up by her drunk husband each night
don't tell me writing isn't going to get me anywhere, that only science will, not after you've seen me bleed across these pages trying to make you understand my passion and love for writing & trust me when I say these numbers & stupid scientific terms will never be able to diffuse into my numb skull the way these lovely letters have
don't tell me that the numbers written on one piece of paper that is graded by a person who probably had a million and one reasons to make me fail, defines my intelligence, not after looking at that girl from high school who failed her maths & ended up becoming a world renowned poet
don't tell me that it's right to hate a person because they were born a shade darker than I am, not after the person who saved my life that summer night I was sprawled across the bathroom floor, overdosed on drugs, was 'fifteen shades darker' than me
don't tell me that I don't have a right to stand up to you because I'm younger than you, not after a 50 year old man ***** his 12 year old student; in no way does your age define your maturity
and dear generation X & Y,
don't tell me what is wrong and right, for I am old enough to face the consequences of my actions, for there is no way I will learn without making mistakes,
and dear generation X & Y,
we'll show you how life should be lived.
Thank you, sit down.
A note to you, from gen Z
