Sixteen

A poem on a dysfunctional generation with iron hearts.

A blackout and a starless sky,

it's 3 a.m. and you try to sleep but it's no use,

kaleidoscopic memories flash past your irises,

just sixteen and already dark circles slumber on your face,

You are broken and shattered,

they scoff in disbelief when you say your heart hurts, 

half past three, there is silk on your pillows and no sleep in your eyes,

all children of the wrong revolution

You put on eyeliner, parade on strong every daybreak,

hoping the universe will replace everything that went missing,

the same books, the dry songs helping you beat on,

it's you against this large world and here comes the summer storm

How did we end up this way within a single generation,

lamenting our premature loss of innocence,

all of us defenseless in our Pandora box,

all of us gifted in faking ingenuity

Veins inked with words we'll never say,

dreams we've come to believe are ridiculous,

drowning while struggling to stay afloat,

never learnt to grow up, just learnt to grow old

The child inside you grew stone cold, 

your firefly jars beckoning you to go back, 

but there due dates and assignments on your side desk,

loaded guns from cross-border wars and you are threatened to be on the receiving end

It only gets tougher from here on out, 

you'll have to defeat with a dagger their cannonballs,

just sixteen and victors of battles with our own selves,

for we are the children of the wrong revolution, our chests harboring iron hearts.

Author's Note

Please do correct me if my grammar is incorrect. English is my second language but writing my first love. Have a beautiful day!!!

Reviews

[Peter Rogerson]

For someone with English as a second language it's pretty damned good!

[ParmalA]

thank you so much :) means a lot ^_^