Burning of a generation

We long for freedom from this

Composition of morbid humans

To which all is the same

And difference disregarded

 

We believe ourselves superior

In perhaps, not morality,

But rather liberality

For our hearts rage with a desire

to do far beyond foretold

 

We believe ourselves advanced

And we act upon the unwandered

In the journey for identity

As we long for freedom

From where difference is disregarded

 

We believe that doing the unfathomed

Is the best way to implore

Disparity,

Just as we believe ourselves that we cannot belong

To a puzzle,

Or be that clock’s piece,

For we’ll be too rebellious

To our motives even cease

 

However singular we are

There are not too much of us

-as so I believe-

For I see almost everybody

Within this puzzle-piece

 

But still I find more

And more

Every time I wander

Through the unwandered

in unfathomable places

 

Now that I observe,

I find myself encircled by the we,

Questioning whether the unwandered

Has only been within me

 

For those who long for freedom

Name themselves millennials

In a battle to be

When being consists

As living within part

of a composite.

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