I came from a generation that stuck in between the nostalgia, The grandeur of aesthetics and hypocrisy in the genitalia Too many amateurs which they called pretenders Too many pretenders which they called profounders Of Artistry in every countries culture.
I am not the most impressive writer just like Shakespeare Neither close to the modern writers on which they give praise My age is a few leaps away to the end of my youth, At twenty, I found words of impulsiveness and courage elicit from my mouth.
I am just someone who embodied the face of my leagues They call me the soul of their generation as they please I may write pretentiously, but I speak for the marginalized I dream for my inked piece would reach them, I hope to get them amazed
I am the soul my generation A little careless with my actions, telling others I'm brave A little wild, yet I screamed that nothing bounds me A little innocent with life's surprises, and so I apologized and called it as a mistake. I'm a few every people that you've met. I carry the pieces of the individuals who have touched me I flow like the river which takes parts of the fallen objects in me. Vulnerable to anything, Easy to gain what the heart desires Misunderstood like the innocent criminals, Goes along with changes I'm maybe everything they thought I am I'm maybe someone you never thought I am Or nothing in with your choices But one thing's for sure; I'm free.