We are the broken generation.
The generation of the extremes:
Plenty or not enough,
We have too much food or none at all,
We either have a bed to sleep in or we sleep on cardboards on the plain floor,
We either get consumed by hunger or by drugs,
There is no middle anymore.
The generation of chance and change,
We are afraid of change, but we give risk and danger a chance.
We are the misunderstood and hopeless,
We are the lonely and the lost,
We are the center of the tiny worlds inside our heads.
We are the either stuck on a web,
Swimming in words,
Choked by smoke,
Crushed by books,
Asphyxiated by pressure and stress.
We are the blind, the deaf, the mute, the senseless.
We do not talk, we do not see.
Well, we might see but do not pay attention,
Hear but do not listen,
Talk but do not mean anything,
Touch but do not feel.
We have everything we want, not what we need.
And yet we stand up and fight for our what we think,
Rise up to defend and attack with the same venomous words,
Fight with meaningless phrases full of emptiness.
We are the broken.