I am the future world leader, the president, the teacher,
and I'd like to teach you a thing or two.
Don't you dare call me a part of the "problem generation"
because my generation isn't the problem,
but we have to solve the problems that we didn't create;
we have to solve the problems we were procreated into.
At this rate, I'm expected to fix the holes in the ozone
while silently fixing the holes that fill me up inside
and I need to concentrate hard on school
because a degree is necessary to fill up my car with gas
and a degree is necessary to fill the stomachs of my future children
but they will need far more than anything I can provide
to fill the void that they will be born into.
As a high school student, I'm expected to keep my grades high
while keeping my mind higher
because Kush makes nice cushion to fall back on
when no one is there to stop me from crashing.
Honors classes are the standard but they take my honor away
as the A's drop to C's, I become enveloped in
seas of depression and anxiety, drowning
as the waves of work constantly crash on top of me
but teachers don't have training as lifeguards
and I am forced to pull myself back to shore,
never really sure if I'll make it back to how things were.
No one ever listens to anything I have to say
because kids will be kids but I am not kidding anymore,
no, I grew up way too fast to play around now;
they sell drugs on the playground as 5 year olds swing out of childhood
and slide into the arms of broken families;
broken homes built on the foundation of promises
that couldn't be kept, and as the custody agreement battles on
no one wants to keep the kids so they begin to keep to themselves.
Silence is loud when it's the only thing left
because no one seems to know what to say to the survivor,
the only one left behind. no words seem to fit just right
so people give up on the puzzle and leave the shell behind
and the survivor is left alone yet again
but there is no strength found in solidarity,
because even the strongest cannot bear to hear the whispers
of the past as they slide through the cracks in the walls
and by the time it's all said and done,
the walls are not alone in their shattering
as the shards fly from between my ribs
and the forest fires begin to erupt from my wrists,
they spread to my thighs and my stomach
no, i will not do this anymore.
Maybe the problems of my generation
are not the problems left for us to solve.
Maybe they are the problems we create for ourselves.
Maybe we are our own problems.
Don't you dare call me a part of the "problem generation"
because my generation isn't the problem,
but we have to solve the problems that we didn't create;
we have to solve the problems we were procreated into.
At this rate, I'm expected to fix the holes in the ozone
while silently fixing the holes that fill me up inside
and I need to concentrate hard on school
because a degree is necessary to fill up my car with gas
and a degree is necessary to fill the stomachs of my future children
but they will need far more than anything I can provide
to fill the void that they will be born into.
As a high school student, I'm expected to keep my grades high
while keeping my mind higher
because Kush makes nice cushion to fall back on
when no one is there to stop me from crashing.
Honors classes are the standard but they take my honor away
as the A's drop to C's, I become enveloped in
seas of depression and anxiety, drowning
as the waves of work constantly crash on top of me
but teachers don't have training as lifeguards
and I am forced to pull myself back to shore,
never really sure if I'll make it back to how things were.
No one ever listens to anything I have to say
because kids will be kids but I am not kidding anymore,
no, I grew up way too fast to play around now;
they sell drugs on the playground as 5 year olds swing out of childhood
and slide into the arms of broken families;
broken homes built on the foundation of promises
that couldn't be kept, and as the custody agreement battles on
no one wants to keep the kids so they begin to keep to themselves.
Silence is loud when it's the only thing left
because no one seems to know what to say to the survivor,
the only one left behind. no words seem to fit just right
so people give up on the puzzle and leave the shell behind
and the survivor is left alone yet again
but there is no strength found in solidarity,
because even the strongest cannot bear to hear the whispers
of the past as they slide through the cracks in the walls
and by the time it's all said and done,
the walls are not alone in their shattering
as the shards fly from between my ribs
and the forest fires begin to erupt from my wrists,
they spread to my thighs and my stomach
no, i will not do this anymore.
Maybe the problems of my generation
are not the problems left for us to solve.
Maybe they are the problems we create for ourselves.
Maybe we are our own problems.
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