This is the sound of the turning tide
That erodes the cliff until there’s nowhere to hide,
Carving away at my identity inside
And forming a new one that will all-too-soon die.
Yes, I lied. I tried to abide by the pride on my side,
But all I did was deny everyone else.
Two worlds colliding, my mind is divided,
All the confusion aside, I’m here to decide:
Who am I?
A name is simply a disclaimer decided by someone
other than yourself to play society’s game.
No shame in that, but when 6 letters can maim your entire claim to fame?
When 6 letters can cause you more pain than a burning flame?
Who you are is not your name.
Who you are is the steps you’ve taken.
Who you are is the eyes in the mirror when you awaken.
The aching sensation that forsakes your mistakes.
The soaring elation that outweighs the damnation.
They say the human body replaces itself every seven years,
That every cell that once made you you has all but disappeared.
Seven years ago, you had different fingers to wipe away the same old tears.
You no longer recognize your young old face, but you can’t let go of the same old fears.
Therefore, in seven years, when I am twenty-three years young,
My wanton words will be wasted, wallowing, wishing I had bitten my young tongue,
Kept company by company cubicles and coffee-stained copy paper that I collapse among,
Spending my sedative days sobbing that my self-important song has shriveled away unsung.
We are the last of the millennials, we’re the symptoms of a crisis,
A technological paradigm that leaves us feeling lifeless.
We have the sense of wonder of children, but the responsibilities of adults.
Happiness now comes processed and packaged, and we insist its not our faults.
We are realizing that the real world isn’t really what we thought it would be,
The promises of middle class prosperity are as real as the tooth fairy.
The boogeyman in the closet isn’t nearly as scary as the taxman at the door,
9 to 5 is the number of the beast and it will suck your sterilized soul sore.
But before you dive for the door, fall to the floor,
join the peace corps, and roar for generation war...
Remember that there’s no shame in beating society at its own game.
Your name doesn’t define what you overcame.
You are different. You are a fighter, and you the future,
Get off the computer, neuter those humorless commuters.
Give them hell, show them well that we will repel what they’re selling,
The middle of the road isn’t nearly worth dwelling in.
Two worlds colliding, my mind is divided,
All the confusion aside, I’m here to decide: Who am I?
I am more than 6 letters.
I can be better. I can be a no-sweater. I can be a trend setter.
This may be the sound of the turning tide, now make it turn in your favor,
Savor the flavor of success because you never know when it will waver.
We’re young, we’re reckless, now take that energy and make something greater,
Don’t wait ‘til later, inspire us all to be a generation of saviors.
This may be the sound of the turning tide
That erodes the cliff until there’s nowhere to hide,
Now ride the tide of the tears you’ve cried
And prove to them all you’re only hitting your stride.