The generation made only of skin, bones, and that which can be injected into the first So that we can make believe even after we’ve kissed adolescence goodbye We can play pretend Pretend that our reality is what we wish it were Though we should be holding back a bitter, abrasive laugh Should be finding it hilarious How we make believe our reality is one thing But through our actions we unceasingly choose to let our circumstances choose the shape and size of our world How we act as though it is only logical that our past should define our present But our present define our future? “You just don’t understand” As long as we aren’t drowning, we’ll let the ebb and flow of mundane living continue to wash over us, coming in, Now out, Rocking us gently back and forth Now suffocating Now letting us up to gasp for air A lullaby so patient, so constant We lose consciousness to the fact That we’re slowly drowning But so long as death doesn’t come before Friday,
Professional writer based in Austin, TX