Oct 2015
Like wild flowers in a wild fire,
These burns we are subject to hang us higher
Than any words we take from eachother, it's the ridicule, the mockery, from this age's big brother.
He says our generation is mindless,
But it's society which binds us
To these stereotypes, these profiles, that push us further into exile.
And the ones who protect us, the parents, the hosts
Are the breeders of evils that harm us the most.
What evils you say? No, not in that way.
No picture book monster from under the bed,
It's the sickness that swims in the back of our heads.
Not merely a fever, or ache of a tooth,
An epidemic of sadness is plaguing our youth.
Now, the generation above, they really do care..
But they fail to relate and it makes us feel bare.
No we aren't angry, what we feel isn't hate.
It's the image of us that you tend to create.
We are believers, lovers, artists with dreams,
But you see us as rebels trapped in phone screens.
So you wonder why we have no fear to die? You witness us struggle, you witness us cry.
Instead of "how are you? can I help in some way?"
It's "snap out of it, you're fine, I know you're okay."
So why so surprised when we're dropping like flies?
You say it's not that bad, but it is in our eyes.
Pity isn't needed. It's credit we seek. Just tell us you're proud and we won't be so meek..
I have a voice, she has a voice, he even speaks too.
Yeah we are individuals, but that's probably news to you..
Because now were just numbers plugged into the grid
As much as we try, we cannot get rid
Of these titles, these brands - the "mindless" generation.
Before it's too late, please stop the degradation.
We used to be wild flowers, now we just count the hours
Down to when we may at last be alone.
When we sit in our rooms, sometimes we think,
We don't actually live on our phones.
We are believers, lovers, artists with dreams
But you don't speak our language, you can't hear the screams
For answers and reasons behind you and me
We aren't the delinquents you think us to be.
But our petals are falling, our fires grow dim.
We make these bold statements, going out on a limb.
Since when did self-harm and anxiety start trending?
I hadn't even noticed my childhood ending..
You say we're just kids, but then so were you,
So why act surprised when you see what we do?
We may not be equals but we ARE the sequel, to your life and our futures despite all the evils.
What a shame to leave by suicide note. I wonder what they'll think when they read what we wrote.
This is how wildflowers say goodbye, not with a cry, but with a whimper.
These burns we are subject to hang us higher
Than any words we take from eachother, it's the ridicule, the mockery, from this age's big brother.
He says our generation is mindless,
But it's society which binds us
To these stereotypes, these profiles, that push us further into exile.
And the ones who protect us, the parents, the hosts
Are the breeders of evils that harm us the most.
What evils you say? No, not in that way.
No picture book monster from under the bed,
It's the sickness that swims in the back of our heads.
Not merely a fever, or ache of a tooth,
An epidemic of sadness is plaguing our youth.
Now, the generation above, they really do care..
But they fail to relate and it makes us feel bare.
No we aren't angry, what we feel isn't hate.
It's the image of us that you tend to create.
We are believers, lovers, artists with dreams,
But you see us as rebels trapped in phone screens.
So you wonder why we have no fear to die? You witness us struggle, you witness us cry.
Instead of "how are you? can I help in some way?"
It's "snap out of it, you're fine, I know you're okay."
So why so surprised when we're dropping like flies?
You say it's not that bad, but it is in our eyes.
Pity isn't needed. It's credit we seek. Just tell us you're proud and we won't be so meek..
I have a voice, she has a voice, he even speaks too.
Yeah we are individuals, but that's probably news to you..
Because now were just numbers plugged into the grid
As much as we try, we cannot get rid
Of these titles, these brands - the "mindless" generation.
Before it's too late, please stop the degradation.
We used to be wild flowers, now we just count the hours
Down to when we may at last be alone.
When we sit in our rooms, sometimes we think,
We don't actually live on our phones.
We are believers, lovers, artists with dreams
But you don't speak our language, you can't hear the screams
For answers and reasons behind you and me
We aren't the delinquents you think us to be.
But our petals are falling, our fires grow dim.
We make these bold statements, going out on a limb.
Since when did self-harm and anxiety start trending?
I hadn't even noticed my childhood ending..
You say we're just kids, but then so were you,
So why act surprised when you see what we do?
We may not be equals but we ARE the sequel, to your life and our futures despite all the evils.
What a shame to leave by suicide note. I wonder what they'll think when they read what we wrote.
This is how wildflowers say goodbye, not with a cry, but with a whimper.
