The Millennial Monster
Mamma always told me “I’m the ringer to another middle finger”
a drop out set to run out; born to serve coffee.
Two sugars or a lump its one & the same,
one day in & two nights out, the flow of the creamer is not what I’m worried about.
The paycheck is the bottom line; that fails to define; the place to sign; the meaning of life; the purpose to other than standing in this endless line.
I’m the monster born from creation, breed to work & taught to loath imagination, raised to swallow the pills of segregation in a world that de-evolves our own emancipation.
They say god looks at us & hold his breath two tone from all the civil unrest; divide & conquer is the digest, but reality is a fickle thing when you’re a millennial you’ll know what I mean: A woke statement is all that you’ll need.
The millions it took, to ride out, & die out; to say your own name, fearing the words that cast your own blame. Revolution is a war on spite, grappled by the shadows coined by the right.
Fixated on toast, a vote could have helped, but instead we continue to boast of the monster unseen, driven from fear from a benevolent queen.
The darker the coffee, the sweeter rhyme; hold fast and unbroken the words now spoken; the trivial motion of a doom’s day approaching; my eagerness is enthusiasm for my generation as we walk on broken glass; the end couldn’t be sooner as its safer out of class.
Copyright © Niko Gizdich | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment