Millennial

I’ve seen the best minds of my generation struggling, but too carefree,

Living vicariously through apathy,

Too old to party hard, but far too young to die,

Giving their own individuality a premature goodbye.

A generation taking photos with the lens facing the wrong way,

Lasting forever on the informational superhighway,

A mind so fresh and so capable,

Yet spend all day gazing at its own navel.

A month’s pay half spent on rent, other on drink,

It distresses me how alike these people think,

No room to care, only just gloat,

Perhaps it’s no wonder why bad men get the vote.

It’s Friday night, and the time is right,

Yet why do I feel the need for a flight?

A generation of minds, common sense marred,

At their age, two generations before knew only work hard.

A bad name for me and the ones I love,

But a stereotype sadly fits like a glove,

No room to talk, just stare at a screen,

In a world of aesthetics and nature so clean.

When the television and news talks about my generation,

It makes me feel bad to be in this nation,

A wandering aimlessly old soul,

I don’t want to be a millennial as a whole.