Generations of Desperation

A Poem

Photo by Larm Rmah on Unsplash

I wear these metals
But they’re so heavy
Around my neck
In my mind
And on my money
I would likely give them back
If asked.

These metals
Were never meant to be mine
Sold to my family
with an American Dream
And a cow made of cash
In the form of clever intellect
Without any wisdom
Since wisdom requires time
And there wasn’t enough—

Just over the horizon
A sitting target
I was
vulnerable to the seduction
of opportunity
That comes with
Generations of desperation.