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Generation Of Broken

This isn’t you nor is it me. Don’t look for hidden symbolism in the text, my lack of meaning is my meaning. Like the glittering black waves of an Ocean under siege I mount my mass upon itself to grow and grow, eventually swallowing the world whole beneath its weight. This is the definition of our being, I grow with the pressures of an aesthetic storm to an alarming size, my glittering waves becoming unbearable to the shoulders that hold me up. This is the strongest I may be, lacking what it means to feel my emotions drown in the waves of a consumerist agenda. My lack of depth is my depth, do not look for a hidden meaning. My sea is not deep and you may not swim within, I am like a well which shall run dry, this is my curse. My redemption does not lie with what I was lead to believe, I am lost underneath my torn humanity. Where is my family of whom I desire, lost within the technological advances of a dead generation. This is not you, this is not me, there is no hidden meaning. I have lost my sense of a being, underneath our clothes and broken values of home there is no life that which will flow. My creativity is a snail, curling and burning, Salted by the vast advertisers of a broken age. I can’t survive underneath this stress, of a wave of objects with which bring no rest. Where is my god, when I need him most we are a generation of ghosts. Why can we not see the shallowness with our eyes, drowning in the objects, we will all die. Alone without meaning this is our place, With no god as witness, we are like nihilist’s without a face. This won’t be good for the ocean under siege, swallowing our world whole at our feet, place me under the volatile waves help me see under my things. Where is my redemption I can’t find a meaning, All these things and still I am left yearning, for a natural feeling of happiness to rush through, I turn to what I hate most and that may be you. We are humans you and I, and my meaning is not hidden underneath your eye, What I lack is a meaning of truth for I cannot see our youth, Lost with the droves of divorced parents, I seek a feeling that is not apparent. I want the comfort of a home, With which I can feel my heart glow.


This isn’t you nor is it me, Don’t look for symbolism in this text, our lack of meaning is our meaning until we see fit to change what we believe and envelop it, once our sea comes to rest, the waves slow down and eventually desist. Our minds cannot fathom what it is like to be accepting of our humanity and the life we live, let us all just take eachother in. Where was our god when we united, to show the world that our generation was not wasted, within the ads for new T.Vs with lasting love, and no company monopolies. Where was our god, who created us whole, to watch us burn underneath our own smoke, what has he now to show for this fair world, Our meaning is the meaning of all the boys and girls. I take into my hand, this tiny grain of sand, and see the depth of the ocean is grand. This is our meaning, life in a box, we are made to unite as the boats of our lives rock and rock. Don’t look for a symbolism there is none to be found, What I say quite clearly is not profound, we feel everyday with our boredom at a rise, Where are the ads now to show us our demise, Defeated at last with caring by our side, My empathy is my weapon our enemy is pride. Egos at rest as I see my fellow brother, in his own turmoil of thunder. Who is to say that we lack the power to help one another in this vast expansion of space and time.?

This is not you, this is not me, this is a generation of vast apathy, for the lives of fathers we cannot learn. They can’t keep their eyes for their own, we must unite against all that is right, for the ads lie, we don’t need late night. With anarchy in our midst we must stand and fight for every last grain of sand, out from our storm of emotional struggle, we open our eyes to see one another. I take your hand as you glance to your sides, to see the millions and millions of different eyes, This Is our generation that we have, this is our final place in the sand. We cannot go in the same direction backward, our creativity is not at a loss, it was just stagnated underneath the stores of Ross, and Best Buy with all its grandeur of technological advancements destroying all we have left, of the human heart in our left breast.

This isn’t you nor is it me, don’t look for hidden symbolism in this text, our meaning is the meaning like glittering blue waves of an ocean at rest, we gave it our best to show the world, how humans could unite for a greater good, who is to say that we have not the power, to end this endless rain shower. Where is our god, when needing him most, watching us choke underneath our own smoke.





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