have you ever heard somebody saying: "teenagers today are ruder, more violent and so much hornier than we were."

i don't think so. it's not like that. most grown-ups have forgotten over the years what they did and how they acted out.

we surely have a lot of vivid memories about our youth. but our feelings of teenage experience disappeared.

history repeats itself.

I wake up being a narcissist everyday
Every morning pumps a wave of narcissism in me
But as the time passes and morning vomes to the end
The sun sets and the neight begins
I end up being a nihilist
And a wave of nihilism passes inside me
This phenomenon goes on everyday and I named it as my adulthood

For three years I have worked towards a dream
now I am defeated
when you give your all
and it it’s the good enough
how can you keep trying

i no longer believe in fairness
or that working hard will help you to
achieve your “dreams”
that is *******
that corporations feed you to keep you
Complacent

work hard! do better! be best!
no. that’s the koolaid you are drinking
the society that says you can achieve anything with hard work
It is all lies
You suddenly wake up

everything has been a lie
you have wasted all this time
your life is a lie
you have no hope
you are in a corporate nightmare
nothing you do matters

If a lie lies within flies,
where would it hide and why?

If a man is stan of tan,
why would he not mend?

In a life full of berries,
sometimes we take more of cherries

We chose silence between resilience,
that even nobles defeats from their own science

Here, we stand on our feet,
we carry our belongings,
we cry even if no one wants to listen,
we smile in the belief of life is beauty,
we sleep because life is both strength and health

We think of laughter and sorrow,
the vows,
the future of future generations,
even nature’s life

We have come to an end,
whether we resume to feel love and give love

This all remains,
all the beauty of life,
is in the map of God’s hand,
where we choose to plot good and bad

A small girl
With dreams and ambitions
Stuffed in her backpack
Humming, she waits while staring
At the other side of the station
Where people, different ages and stories
Wait for the same train

She is alone, it doesn't bother her
It is life that is in front of her
Life that is one way and short
Life that passes by in a blink of eye
Life that is worthwhile, even if painful
Life that is young, yet old
Life that is the way it is meant to be

The train she's waiting for came suddenly
It's time to pack up and leave this station
Life must go on, even if it rains
The memory of youth and a simple world
Isn't just the place for her anymore
This is for her own good, destination bound
To a new home
Adulthood

My stomach hurts with this conformity
as I'm not really me but a shadow of everyone else.
Playing piano the same way as the pianist;
professionalism guides me to imitation.

I've reached the point where these veins are thick
with someone else's warm blood and now I am sick.
There is an indentation of a wedding band on my finger
though I have never been married
my skin is anticipating the weight it will leave on me.

My womb is ready for five caucasian boys
that all play sports and **** women
a large dog we play fetch with to ignore
the rising temperatures and death in the poles.
Backyard barbeque smoke blends with the pollution
and we laugh and get drunk with the neighbors.
When they leave, my husband and I fight and
he hits me in a drunken rage.

Though in the morning we will wake to a foggy suburb
and drive to the chapel to hold hands in our Sunday best
and thank God for the life we have and beg forgiveness
for the sins that make us Human

Part II
In the sunlight coming through stained glass windows,
I see the reflection of a girl I once knew,
surrounded by untimely, immortal gold,
happiness in places where my wrinkles and tear tracks are.

She is me on another timeline
conformity unable to break her gold aura.
Miine was broken decades prior to this heartbreaking moment.
I let go of my husband's hand and I feel ill.

When I was a kid I would carry a can of spray paint in my backpack
I always wanted to leave behind something that someone would see
Something that would make them stop and be enthralled
Something interesting... inspiring even
Something more than just the value of its creator

Maybe I haven’t changed that much

I miss being a child,
Carefree,
Happiness wasn't even an option, it was just there.
I miss being a child,
There was no judgment. There was never being wrong, everything was possible.

I miss being a child,
Being happy was all that mattered but now, we're tired and worn out from heaven knows what..
Childhood is beautiful, don't dare deprive any one of it.