Madeleine McIlheran

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,

Still a beauty Yet I know that your lifeline has been cut That though you still breathe You already belong to death You aren’t yet faded But you are fading And Time- he soon will leave your side As you will in turn leave us We who are now realizing Between womb and tomb We came from earth Then to work the earth Until we are buried in our precious earth Now realizing that as we grow older Our time is constantly growing smaller We are all slowly dying Arriving on hospital beds Then leaving how we came Frail, helpless, afraid On a hospital bed.