Night is coming to an end
The Sun will rise again
My eyes still wide open
Similar to an owl
Looking out at the sky
Those beautiful colors
Falling on each other
Maybe one day
They will give me freedom
They will give me peace

Eighteen
Such a strange age
Want to be free
Afraid to leave the cage

Too young to be old
Too old to be young
Too little to spend
Too much to learn

Afraid of the future
Long to be in it
Flightless birds
in a sky with no limit

Nothing to do
So we cry
Nothing to live for
So we die

Addicted to depression
This covid generation
Craving some attention
Looking for clarity
In this lonely,loveless Eden
Zoo animals thrown into wild
Without any preparation

Hate our parents
Hate the world
Hate ourselves
Issues of dearth

Want to do so much
So we do nothing instead
Feeling so tired
Of being so useless

Yes,we have dreams
Atleast I remember that we do
What are they exactly but
We haven't got a clue

Something in between
First-time adult,last-time child
Most of the times we do nothing
But somedays we wanna be wild

Staring emptily into the void of insta
For that rush of dopamine
Too afraid to be bored
Young,dumb and serene

Simultaneously thinking
We are better and worse than our true selves
In search for salvation
On video game shelves

I'm so confused
This way or the other
Too dumb to know the answer
Too proud to ask my mother

All the friends
have suddenly become so strange
Acting so different
Singing odes to hell

Everyone else,
so figured out
Me and my friends
surrendered to doubt

Life-changing decisions
And dank memes
Not know what we are feeling
Not knowing what we want
Not knowing who are

Since we have so much time
We love to waste it all
Give me a friend to talk to
There's too much going on

Waiting for the revolution
Watching tiktok on the computer
Reading novels on socialism
What is your political compass?

Hearing the same song again and again
Left wing or right wing,which path do we take
Contemplating the economy,measuring the pain
Doing silly trends,to be up with our friends

Gold fish attention span
Choose a poison,choose a clan
We have so many plans but don't ask our plans
Be obnoxiously silent or be obnoxiously loud
Time to get real,time to fool around

Learning about the world
It seems awesome and f-ed up
The adults have ruined it
Now we have to clean up

Confusion is an ally
We are *****,young teens
Oh no,******
Feelings of love begin

Hey god if you are real
Can you email me the address
Because I am unable to find the pincode
of true happiness?

Take us to the yesterday
Take us to the future
What to do,what to do
Killed by confusion
Dont judge,you were once like this too

I don't know what I want to mean
But I get a pass
I'm confused,I'm eighteen

You cannot understand us
Because neither can we
Que sera sera
Whatever will be,will be

(Note-the poem may feel repetitive because so is life)

I wonder how you are feeling exactly
If you miss taste of my lips
Say you care but I can't help but worry
To you I am just something broken to fix

I’m sorry
if I’m a little lost
when the mind is free
the body follows at a cost
till you’re broke and can’t pay
the soul is stolen away
leaving the shell of a ghost

Forgive me
if I’m a little used
when you’re careless
you casually bruise
till you’ve bled no more
have no life to pour
the spirits withered
and abused

My apology
for being a mess
when what’s of value
becomes little to confess
when what you hold
is worth all the gold
and you give it up
for lentils or less

Am I really
just fighting
for
my family
or
is there more
like
am I all
?
so
fighting for
the feeling
of having someone
to care
for me
**** it
I deserve it
I deserve it.

or
could it be
the fight was
Just
a façade
am I All
ready
?
falling
victim to the fear
of failure
?

Do you know what I find funny?
My room never fails to mirror my psychological state of being.
Like right now.
I’m currently sitting amongst my disheveled sheets and scattered laundry.
But I’m also desperately searching for my bonnet within the chaos.
And just like with my bonnet,
I can’t quite pinpoint what my thoughts are centered upon.
My bonnet could be anywhere,
Though my room is only so large.
And my thoughts could be anywhere,
Though I can’t imagine having much to think about.

Do you know what I find even funnier?
If I were to clean my room,
Right now,
I would probably find my bonnet.
I would most likely discover it under my pillowcase or behind my bed frame;
Perhaps on top of my desk or in my dresser.
But I refuse.
I mean where would I start,
And how long would it actually take me?
Yeah, I’m good.
I’m used to sitting in my clutter anyway.

I crave to build a home
But I push everyone away
I want to set up a foundation
But every time I set it ablaze
I want something ethereal
But I ruin everything I touch
I want what doesn't exist
But I keep ignoring the rough
I want to stop running
But it's like I'm stuck on repeat
I want to give up
But I also can't stomach defeat
I want to let go of this life
Some days just feel like too much
I want you to "love" me
But I know even that won't be enough

living off
of apologies and time
spent in desperation
recollecting and reflecting
on where
all of the good vibes went
then
I may have smoked them.

underestimating my
control
of the situation
like I'm not
educated in protecting
my Peace
and healing my whole
mind, body
and Spirit

deflecting questions of
my integrity
all
because I prefer
complexity -
it takes me
three lefts
to make it right.

also some
times
I have to remind
myself
that it's okay
to cry
boiling hot emotions
got this little black kettle
singing high

currently
I'm choking
on the
hard pill
of a broken home
..heartache
worse than a broken bone
this is admitting to myself
that
I could be traumatized.
True.

I need a
get away
like Lenny says
quick break
with Mary, Garcia
and Vega
the only chance I ever get
to take flight.

in all Honesty
I am really
tired
of people
pushing me
and pulling me.
college drop-outs
they think
they schooling me
they are
tools to me.
Shorty,
swing my way
with that hammer
No
I'm not
driving for that *****.

some say real
Love is
Black
some say it's
blue..
I say it's both
you know
the winners
always leave with
a little
bruise .
or two . .
or3 . . .

there probably may come
a time of day
where
you have to choose
whether
to lose
yourself
in this matrix
or
to fight
by your own rules
and well

Here

is to you,
my Little Light
your presence is proof
that some
times
choosing
True
Love is
the right thing to do.