A call can be heard,
From those that are young,
Those with tender, innocent eyes,
Who just want fun.

Fun is freedom,
The theory to be-one.
Explore and be,
Free.
A cry for a smile
Once and a while
To lift the spirits of thee.

They look up.
Nothing more.
They look up and want more
But are restricted by the bore
Of drugs, hate, and war, and
All for what?
Glory? Money?
This is not funny.
Yet, it’s a joke.
That so little people spoke up,
For the rights of those who are young.

They are our future, our soul,
Our mirror.
Be one,
And soon you will see one
Of the same.
But in smaller form.
So show it, and live it!
And give it.
But only the good,
Nothing but good.

A license should be needed,
To bare the young,
But those so conceded,
Those not ready to bare,
It isn’t fair,
They just needed to let go, to feed their urge.
To be one,
So stupid. To breed one.


We, the elders, the mentors,
The leaders, the breeders.
Have a responsibility to now live the life we love and made,
Despite the setbacks
Our bed is made.