#genz
you handed us a broken world
said “fix it”
and then complained when we were overwhelmed
called our generation lazy
when all our fighting
was met with indifference
saw our depression and coined it weakness
as if our developing minds weren't forced to isolate
for two. whole. years.
blamed the disconnect from humanity
on our addiction to social media
pretending you didn't design it
so say we’re stupid all you want
just remember:
you’re the ones who were supposed to teach us
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 10:17 AM UTC
A society, liberticidal,
liberate our bitterness,
A joy of life in tatters,
shattered on the pavement;
Jobs that don’t exist,
and then they call us people
with Peter Pan syndrome;
Union struggles,
a symptom of management,
the very same social cancer;
Mar 23
Mar 23, 2026 at 2:25 PM UTC
There's a mob outside
They formed last night
Their chanting is turning into music
Music to my ears
Don't worry it took me
A while to get used to it
Like a whole year
Oh, how often are they
Outside my window?
Well this month
I'd say every other week
But last month
They were stuck on something
That happened during Halloween
But its ok
They don't care if they are
Bothering my reading
My writing
My cooking
My surviving
They don't care if someone
Broke my heart last night
They are too busy out there
Fighting the good fight
Does that not bother you?
Well of course it does a little
But I am not allowed to say
Anything
They will be out there
Tomorrow with signs
That say that I'm so judgmental
So you just stay quiet?
And keep to yourself?
Yea thats the only way
To survive this type of hell
That must be tiring?
Do you see my screen time?
I go to bed like at four every night
Why don't you
just move across the state?
Oh because mobs like this
They are just part of
A modern fate
I've gotten over it
I've learned to plug my ears
Anyways,
Do you want some water?
Its all my unshed tears.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 10:32 PM UTC
I feel like writing - the feeling is itch-like.
Perhaps something aesthetically unconvincing
to feed the algorithm or better yet, something
carefully designed to invoke irate criticism.
“You aren’t the boss of me!" I’ll be thinking.
It’s my understanding (ok, a 15 year old told me)
that younger GenZs go to dances and just stand around
because GOD FORBID someone takes a pic
of them looking stupid while dancing.
I’m genZ but I want to shake myself apart on the dance floor.
I don’t stand looks - I switch it up with..
“If you think I look stupid
- I don’t look stupid -
your FACE looks stupid. (I sneer)
I can stop dancing any time
but you’re stuck with that face.”
Of course, that's an old insult - as old as teens themselves
but sometimes you have to go with the classics.
.
.
A song for this:
Get Him Back by Fiona Apple
Cassandra by Florence + the Machine
Jan 15
Jan 15, 2026 at 10:34 PM UTC
I know easy,
You know difficult,
I say, thank you,
You say, grateful,
You slumber,
I Sleep.
I wrote poem,
You wrote verses.
I stay humbled,
You stay elated.
You eat meals,
I eat food.
I say, tell me,
You say, spill the tea.
I say, attractive,
You say, rizz.
You hear vocabulary,
I hear words.
I say, you show off,
You say, I flex.
I say, How are you?
You say, What's up, dude?
You say, bussin,
I say, good.
I enjoy simplicity,
You enjoy complexity.
Nov 19, 2025
Nov 19, 2025 at 11:15 AM UTC
All the years, how they pass,
Unhurried but veiled,
Like being seen through glass
The games we played,
Minecraft and FNAF,
The things we saw,
Social media and war,
What we smelled,
Vanilla and Citrus,
What we heard,
Bet and cringe,
What we touched,
Soft and jagged,
What we tasted,
Sweet and sour,
What is this feeling?
It’s left me so…cold,
It could only be Nostalgia,
A disease of the old.
Nov 4, 2025
Nov 4, 2025 at 12:17 PM UTC
_breaking:
a poet's try at uncovering the depths of conveying,
will they be able to—
or die and turn missing?_
they've messed up what the actual book looked like,
now it's become 101 ways to show and disguise.
it's methodological,
not worth following,
yet they've become walking fools,
need people to guide them.
_it starts like the flicker you feel_
before a moment that begins,
opening up to a new feeling,
like before starting a book you don't know yet—
will it heal, hurt, or stay with you
as a memory or _the haunting truth?_
one whose ending isn't so clear.
i haven't read the summary,
or the genre,
or what people might think of it.
i still hold it dear.
the unpredictables are exciting.
i walk through chapters,
pausing on the torn pages,
moving on hoping it'd make sense,
stitching my own words during the lost stages.
what is this blurb of my story meant to look like?
i wouldn't write my own prologue,
if you handed me the choice.
keeping egos aside,
only if they'd talked to listen,
it wouldn't have seemed so childish,
couldn't have ended as a lost forbidden.
i'll start ignoring the truths
the moment it becomes one among psychology.
finding reasons, of all the felonies we commit,
it only spoils it—
whatever does seem to exist.
and not to mention,
reasoning tires me out.
i could save your name,
only you've promised to drain me out.
_trend o' one:_
the language over screen
is hard to be read unless you think like me.
so i say and regret,
knowing it isn't seen through.
the irony of being looked at the surface,
and never tried hard enough to find depth into.
it's comical, how we tend to give up—
half written, still typing, just deleted,
the unsent parts carrying all the weight
that eyes can't seem to convey or confess.
we'll just profess an undying nature of this bond
over stories and over chats.
it's messy, it's disguised.
turns out it's fake,
only for the time.
_trend o' two:_
"hold me close"
but i let go.
the grip slips,
my hands between yours.
our palms are sweaty,
i stare at you
as you look behind me,
and i know this is how it has turned out to be.
i'll look over your shoulder,
you'll give me a glance.
suddenly it's detachment fighting
the whatevers that kept us attached,
slowly you let go, and i can't seem to mend.
sweaty, slipping, holding, missing—
if there were only hands that existed,
would you convey through the grip,
or the phantom of drawing?
touch, absence, pull, drop—
is it a game,
a give and take,
or something worth yet despised?
_trend o' three:_
i sleep most nights alone,
often feeling you slip right behind me,
holding me close,
from isolating all i am,
all that i want,
and all i can be.
you leave behind breadcrumbs—
half spoken text,
misspelt jokes,
questions i ought to answer to.
words that are never meant to seek
so suddenly you fade,
then you return.
the messages are spammed,
the glances double up.
you look at me
and i know you're trouble.
from being sole to being bombed,
your love seems more like a time ticking machine,
and less of something i truly want.
i speak in fragments,
leaving behind unresolved tension.
and it doubles up,
accompanies you and i everywhere we go.
cut-off speakings,
you don't let me continue.
you need the attention,
i deny letting yours deter,
wanting it on me whole.
i hide the truth,
give away half-baked details,
keep what would help me feel understood.
for i know it doesn't stay.
heard from one ear,
you push it away,
keeping close whatever could help you.
might make you make me steer closer.
you ought to learn close,
if you wish to hear
what i don't speak of.
_trend o' four:_
halfway met conditions
and broken promises,
ones never spoken out loud,
but i'd kept them,
for they'd existed in the silence
and in the meanings.
turns out,
we're dolls hooked to puppet strings,
being controlled, our every whim.
the decision is theirs,
as the society directs and clears
whatever pathways you and i ought to take and wear.
it wasn't ever love,
a broken, chosen, inevitable belief
that simply had to come true.
this is a stage play.
we're dressed up,
the puppeteer is you, me, society, family—
or mere glitch of time
and faint suicidal memories?
every belief over up
hid a secret,
an unspoken acrostic,
reading it backwards,
ones that didn't match the tone.
it's rightly unsaid,
meant to say,
_i said so._
i'll reframe it for the ones reading cosmic.
we orbit, they eclipse,
the satellites mispronounced,
the black hole is ridden in misspelled.
the coordinates almost always missed,
make it seem bigger than just reading—
a piece so intellectual, so pronounced,
it feels like leaving.
i'll anchor it down.
_what's your love language?_
is it pronounced?
convert them to the _seven sins—_
would you relate,
dare to point them out?
i've got the comfort book,
the dictionary of dreams,
a brief history of time,
and the tale of the grimms.
none of them hold anything close
to what i write.
there's _five_ proven languages,
and i put forward them parallel to the _seven_ sins—
warped, distorted, weaponized.
this isn't my doing,
but of the one who said
it ought to be _humanized._
_love o' sin_
pride, envy, gluttony, greed, lust, sloth, and wrath
and so i take them on, put them to map.
i.
_affirming_ what's meant
to make you feel better,
compliments dipped in honey,
serving echoes of how you didn't wish
to let it tether.
then why does it feel more like a chain
and less of a bind?
not so delicate either,
why do you force me out of this mind?
like there's _pride_ in owning,
every _you're mine,_
isn't loving.
ii.
_i'll do this for you_
_acts of service_
seems to be fantasized.
but would you—
why it seems almost like masking, neglecting.
saying you care and you would,
i see you avoid and distance.
and when you can, so you do.
a way to not show up in emotions.
you seem vacated, distance,
almost like a _sloth_, speaking ******
iii.
and perhaps _giving and receiving—_
_thought of you, bought this._
is it the opposite?
_bought you, thought of this._
equating all that i feel with possessions,
not having to describe,
oh i'm left with devotion.
the tokens feel like proofs,
but to whom?
the world doesn't care,
yet you demand i hold.
is it _greed, pride_ combined even more?
where feelings could have spoken,
you exchanged presents as bespoken.
iv.
and then i skip to spending—
anchoring _time's quality_, the clocks,
all of them stopping at the same pointed dots.
jealous of the hours
spent so further apart,
yet when it's together—
why does it feel forced,
suffocated, you and i?
we hold despite the minds,
as if it's _envy_,
from those who find it easy.
wanting every second of yours,
possession tying inescapable knots.
v.
and what of _touch—_
hold, grip, grasp, bite,
until it bleeds,
and suddenly it's a good night.
reducing it to hunger,
like _gluttony_—
but i know yet another.
there's connection, there's the threads,
the white ones turning red.
it has become consumption.
_i need to breathe you in,_
_lust_ devours affection.
vi.
shall i add another two?
_silence_, existing without having to show,
or to prove—
not performing but you stay.
except it's withdrawal,
and the need of wanting it sole,
like the perfect doll.
_greed, pride,_and unmistakable _wrath_,
detachment has become a weapon,
punishment you give through absence.
vii.
_attending_ to me over the notch,
consuming it all, in excess,
and watching it get lost.
the meanings, everything fast forwarding,
_love-bombing_—too much, too fast, too hollow.
living in the _extremes_,
_gluttony_—does it ever feel too narrow
of a path to take?
_it ends like a flicker you feel_
after a moment that has reached its ending,
closing into the final moments of the beginner’s feeling,
like after ending a book,
one where you realised just where it stood
and it hurt, it healed, it definitely stayed—
both as a memory,
_and a haunting truth._
zooming back out on you,
a little cynical,
little fragile,
little clinical.
i'm merely dissecting the trends online,
you term it the seven sins of love.
a matter of hours multiplied with days.
what's promised to hold shouldn't disappear,
yet it leaves like a ghost,
of all the phantoms that promised to reappear.
so i get night terrors
of finding it incomplete.
and it hasn't gone along as i hoped.
where did it go?
_honest is the best policy._
have i poured it in,
a little lethal?
would you go as far
as to call me illegal?
you make it seem so seasonal,
as if it's meant to come and go.
but affection has always been
one that ought to be pursued—
only if you find it enough to build a home.
and it gives into a lot,
a lot more messy.
they term it love,
it's just situations encompassing.
a cherished another,
your seemingly only forever.
so why give in to the trends,
when you could hum it over the radios,
find it in the stars,
and preach it to the gods,
making sacrifices
to make it and them, solely yours.
_breaking:
flash mob,
house with no mirrors
and a broken door.
it has been proven time and along,
trends of affection as they are,
for the time being, a rotten core.
so the poet sits and smiles
as they follow and play—
make believe.
hoping they'd stop the disguise,
marking, copying
and simply agree._
Aug 18, 2025
Aug 18, 2025 at 2:28 PM UTC
Code red, code red—
You should know it’s lies i fed,
when i say I like you,
i am only lonely and blue.
Believe me at your own risk,
if i did like you, how’d write you poetry.
You just have to trust me,
I’m attracted to your body.
Maybe, your sense of art too,
the tone of voice, nothing more.
May 24, 2025
May 24, 2025 at 6:00 PM UTC
tn we are thinking abt your new gf and how, unbeknownst to me, you were already dating when i called you the night i got stood up by someone else
(i wouldn’t have called if i knew)
and how i called from a blocked number but you answered and you answered half asleep, “savannah?”
how did you know it was me?
we are also thinking about how we spent last Christmas together but it ended with us crying in each others arms because you dont want to try again and how , according to you, either way you can’t be with anyone right now even if you wanted to
and how throughout those three days, you were getting texts from her but assured me it was platonic. why did you feel the need to assure me ?
tn we are thinking about how this is the first girl you made a playlist for that doesn’t have any songs you dedicated to me first (like the last two did)
and tn i am trying to remind myself that “someone who will always come back is someone who will always leave”
Apr 27, 2025
Apr 27, 2025 at 2:50 AM UTC
Oh to be awoken by the sun and not an alarm,
To be surrounded not by robotic schedules, but by oceanic calm,
To go to bed without counting the hours of sleep I’d get,
To have the option to watch every single sunset.
Oh to be fuelled into a deep sleep by stories etched on dead trees,
To remember the cause of every single book crease.
Oh to be free from viciously scrolling reels - All day. All night.
To catch a break from our screens and actually enjoy natural light.
To eat when I’m hungry and not just when I have time between classes,
To drink water, to *** to rest when my body wants to, and not just go along with the
masses.
I want to be what I know I cannot.
And yet, more than anything, I want to BE.
To BE is to read with no pressure.
To BE is to experience true leisure.
To BE is to look at the night sky and have the stars look back at you.
To BE is to fall asleep under that very sky and be awoken by a bird’s coo.
Amidst AI and robots and technology and the swarm of 21st century ‘Super Brains’,
When did we lose control of our own lives’ reins?
In the war for the title of ‘Smartest BEings’,
We simply forgot to BE.
Mar 30, 2025
Mar 30, 2025 at 6:12 AM UTC
square-up marys,
It’s junior year, in the ivie,
we’re gambling for big-chips.
so gambate, do-it-big!
It's time, buck-up or labron.
if you bunny rouble
homeskillets will hook-it-up
lovems juju
.
.
*slang…
girlogue = conversation between girls that guys can’t understand
square-up = get ready
marys = bookish and lovable girls of wit and looks
ivie = ivy league
big-chips = high stakes, high risk
gambate = Japanese word: 'Try your best!!'
do-it-big = take things to the next level
buck-up = rise to a challenge, to do something others are unable to
labron = fail miserably at the last second
bunny rouble = have trouble
homeskillets = friends
hook-it-up = help you out
lovems = sending you love
juju = good luck*
.
.
(*Get ready, you bookish and lovable girls of wit and looks,
it’s junior year, in the ivy league,
and we’re gambling for high stakes.
So try your best, take things to the next level!
It's time, to rise to a challenge and do something others are unable to
or fail miserably at the last second.
If you have trouble
your friends will help you out
I'm sending you love, good luck.*)
Jan 4, 2024
Jan 4, 2024 at 1:52 PM UTC
Have we all become mere automata
guided by the ring of pings and notifs?
The spray of lather from a sea of data
carrying with it wrung celebrity whiffs
have stung us with a certain aphasia...
The written thought was a lifetime ago
long abandoned by the times and all--
where once there was soundness to follow
nonsense amassed like a rising cymbal
whose crash sent reason to the gallows.
The news of the day presents a delectable entree
of a hodgepodge of this, that, and nothing much.
Wherefore we find our tongues compelled to say
something about the aftertaste or to prejudge
as if we were connoisseurs--it must've hid faraway.
Are we perhaps amusing ourselves to death?
I am by no means a Luddite to such a degree,
but I believe we have bombarded and blessed
ourselves a little too much to see...
only time will tell us reason's final breath.
Sep 19, 2023
Sep 19, 2023 at 10:38 PM UTC
Smile, pose,
flawless, poise
Let's make another picture perfect square,
Perfect for everyone to stare
I don't care what you think,
what you see, what you think,
of what you see,
As long as I can fool my memory
Even if I sink,
even when everything stinks
If I can't remember, it won't drag me down
Let's find our true love,
One and only true love,
Starting from the superficials,
Oh yes, 'cause I believe from this
we can go straight to the nuptials
It's odd if you ask me these days be,
spent more time fighting off monsters that can never be,
Exploring Neverland,
truly being Peter Pan?...
Is it still called a social interaction?
When there is no communication,
More like with the green monsters, spending quality time
all kins of them,
And in plurals,
all these digitals
...
Mar 6, 2023
Mar 6, 2023 at 11:54 AM UTC
i watch this website fall apart
the entire screen freezing as i try to log back in after so many years
and after taking ap principles last year
i can kinda tell why
i am now seventeen
with only a "youthful disposition" to be seen
but only living for her
the little kid who thought being old was all there was to be
fruitger aero
y2k
grainy photos from yesterday
it was never about getting here
it was just about getting away
and crying over an indie album
from 2008
the words hit me harder than any song from a tiktok artist today
were we never really alone?
strange individuals from ten years ago
once scorned, now cherished by the youth
and i ahead or simply behind?
the useless porcelain jars from the thrift store hold more soul to me than any shirt from target ever will
born in the correct era
for now i can love the previous one in peace
strange how we only like something when it leaves
Dec 11, 2022
Dec 11, 2022 at 3:46 PM UTC
tears, flowing again
fueled by almost
almost everything again
i try to see further, but
the only thing i gain
is pain again.
20 won't be hard, they said
shouldn't have believed them
when they
got everything ruined and bad
same things were said again and again
when i was way younger and naive
younger, i mean
when the world was young like me
not the current sink that we're both in
my generation takes all the pain
thinking about how we've almost seen everything
saying this, and at the same time can already feel
the taste of my words in my brain.
Oct 30, 2022
Oct 30, 2022 at 1:25 PM UTC
millennial generation got a little beaten down and miserable.
But i'm glad to see gen z frothing at the mouth and out for blood.
Mar 30, 2021
Mar 30, 2021 at 1:16 PM UTC
A simpler life
No more anger and strife
In the yard, in the sun
Spinning in gardening fun
A big floppy hat
Sunglasses acrobat
Crisp, refreshing mint juleps
When I finish planting these tulips
Owning a house is dream
A capitalist scheme
Millennial bravado
When you choose avocado
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 11:11 AM UTC
I see the older generations say
“I miss the good ole days”
“I miss the America I grew up in”
Do they fail to realize that their generation did this?
Their generation ruined the economy
Their generation poisoned the earth
Their generation drained the Earth of her resources
Their generation segregated people of color
Their generation disowns their children for being gay
Their generation is full of hate
But go on, please,
tell me how my generation is ruining the world.
My generation who is chanting Black Lives Mater
My generation who is trying to reduce their plastic usage
My generation who is fighting for LGBT+ rights
My generation who is fighting for women to have the right to their body
My generation who is still in school
My generation who is mentally unstable
But still is trying to make things right.
My generation is doing the things their generation failed to.
Their generation had their time, and they failed their children
Their grandchildren
So now it’s time for a new generation
My generation
Jul 25, 2020
Jul 25, 2020 at 9:38 AM UTC
Terrifying,
And standing upon the precipice.
Young hopefuls,
Staring into the faces of—
The things that boomed long ago.
The gunshots ring,
Like a terrifying drum beat.
Boom.
Life passes in flashes,
Yesterday long gone.
And tomorrow-
Already has its mind made up.
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 2:36 PM UTC
A generation navigating illusionment:
I am one. Excavation; i sift. Shaking
a plastic basket.
Round - and channel mouths spout
a wire crosshatch. I
Tap
Against
My palm.
Fine flour lands on the counter and
In my head I listen to the same songs
because I already know the words.
I look for a truth outside my mind
because on weekdays I tell myself
I’m not worth knowing.
How do you stop hating yourself
When you hate yourself because
You hate yourself?
When I slide my hand across the counter,
White flour mist puffs and I listen:
Mac Miller’s alive. He said he’s
surviving on ***** almonds, and granola bars.
Grasped in some five fingers
A thin red handle.
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 4:31 PM UTC
When we think about the future
we are weighed down
by problems not our own
with a need for solutions
and hopeless debt
Our generation is left with
more loans and less degrees
specialized jobs and old issues
hateful ideas and new love
When we think about the future
we can see a new age
filled with technology
and so many bright dreams
crushed by this flat world
Our generation is left with
heads bowed to a screen
for hateful comments we see
and kids afraid of what
they really want to be
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 1:46 PM UTC
its not fair for the sky to be mean to the clouds for crying so much
its especially unfair because the sky cries every night too
silver sparkly tears washing off blue eyeshadow
but its ok when the sky does it because the sky pretty-cries
the clouds ugly cry
and thats not okay with the sky
its not fair that no one likes it when the clouds cry
because the clouds only cry because they are heavy
and want some of the weight to go away
the sky cries and everyone loves the sky
maybe because the sky is older
and can smile again when it is done
because the sky cries to get what it wants
but the clouds dont know why they cry
they cant help it
they are so heavy and it hurts so much to carry all the raindrops
and the sky does not care
the sky says, “but you look so light and fluffy
so i think you are not heavy at all
i think you just cry because you want people to talk about you
and you know unless you cry
no one talks about the clouds”
the clouds try to hold their raindrops in now
even though it hurts
and they are very heavy
because they live in the sky and they must
do what the sky says
when the sky is watching
but of course they cant hold it all
and the sky gets mad when they let out all the raindrops they were holding
so the clouds try to explain “I’m sorry
the rain was heavy and i had to let it go”
and the sky does not listen
the sky says “you are so dramatic
you do not have to cry so much
over something so small”
but the clouds do not understand
because the clouds have never had a reason to cry
not a big one or a small one
they just do
so the clouds start holding more and more and more raindrops
they dont let themselves have thunderstorms anymore
it hurts so bad
so
so
so
bad
and the sky still does not seem to understand that
the clouds just want to not be heavy
the clouds wonder if the sky will miss them when they are gone
they suppose that the sky will be glad to be rid of the rain
and then the clouds go away forever.
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 9:44 AM UTC
In this day in age
we blame the generation
that comes after
for the problems
we created for them
We start devastating wars
and pollute the world
and then leave it
for the kids we have
to solve our problems
_What gives us the right_
_to leave problems and blame_
_on those that come after?_
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC
A hurting generation
of broken children
we are the end of this
alphabet of problems
our future is hopeless
full of student loans
and a job crisis
the millennials have
warned us so
So we dull our pain
with jokes and memes
ridiculed by older people
but we know that
our future is dull and
filled with hardship
so let’s make our now
bright and fun
and most of all
a good memory
for when things get hard
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 3:40 PM UTC