I didn't come with
Instructions or a toy
Or sealed for lemon-scented freshness
Only a crying, needing boy.
I don't have the skills
Thanks to you
The train of thought
Or the correct way of thinking
I am unarmed
In this nuclear conflict
Your ideals of decades past
Rebellion and free whatever
Strange that it should work out
This way
Your rebellious ideals have robbed me
Of your parent's ways
I am without ego
And have only a pretend, pop clue
Railing against a culture
Which was content
To leave me
With so much
Nothing
No comments:
Post a Comment