The Generation Poem by Isabelle Parkes

Look around, don’t you see anything
Besides the things you want to see?
Perhaps you don’t, I’ll be your eyes,
Watch and learn, believe

These are the shadows where your dreams run to hide;
These are the footpaths that broke up your stride;
These are the walls around the heart of an angel
And this is the thread that will tie up the strangers

You’re not really looking, you don’t really believe,
You’re ignoring the children of the ones who deceived,

The ones who built buildings to create all that shadow;
The ones who built footpaths to help the bones shatter;
The ones who made walls just to block out the stars
And those who pulled on that thread in the backseat of cars

Well these are your offspring you so skilfully ignore;
The generation destined to feel tired and sore
Because they know a good thing when they finally see it
And aren’t afraid to run a mile in their effort to pursue it.

They are the sunlight coming in through the curtains;
They are the doubt when you know it for certain,
They remember it all and forget what they want
And they really don’t care about the size of the font

They are the ones who colour the air
With the multiple shades they’ve got stuck in their hair,
And it’s them you can thank for a small, random smile
When somebody’s questioning their sense of style.

They’re inventive individuals, a blessing and a curse,
They’re probably not interested in if it could be worse,
They just wrote the ending before the beginning
And whenever they speak it’s a lot more like singing

And when the sun doesn’t know whether or not it should set,
They’re the ones who scream aloud “The day’s not over yet! ”
They invented the word curious and always question why
Past tense takes over when somebody dies.

You built the box and they found boundaries,
Jumped into the black and created new memories,
And saw the shiny metal pieces of a shiny metal heart,
And used their words and their numbers to tear it apart.

They refused to listen whenever you called,
Their lives up in gear and their eagerness stalled,
Alleys were created purely for them to dwell
And avoid the tide of idiots coming in on the swell.

So the next time you think about building a wall
And the next time you forget about breaking their fall,
Remember the strength and the poise of their hands
And the fierce defiance in the way that they stand.

We are the generation you leave behind;
We are the people with our fates intertwined;
You are the ones who made waiting an art,
While the earth slowly turned with every beat of our heart,
And if you’re into losing, then with you I’ll make a bet:
We are the generation you’ll never forget.