Day 346: Riot Youth

Product of the greatest generation coming down the queue. I'm not a member of the warrior class, of the proud, of the few. A member of the children left out in the fields of corn, the quietly taciturn that you forgot were ever born. But we ripped the stitches that you used to keep our swollen lips from ever telling history books about the things that you have done. This isn't fun, but we know we have to sing. We feel it in our blood, in our bones, in our being. And if we keep ourselves together keep from rocking this old leaky ship we'll never get the chance to sink or float and we don't want to live a type of life where we never know what's just outside. We're leaving through the door while our elders run and hide and we aren't coming back until we've traveled through the night. This ain't about good or bad, this is about wrong or right. Black Knight. Fight or flight. Dust to Dust. Afterlife. We don't know what's coming round the bend but we feel alright. We'll say our peace and try to keep ourselves from screaming with palms that are bleeding and scratched raw cause it's truth that we're fiending. And afterwards there won't be nothing left to say, we'll just all sigh exhausted from discovering that nobody was right.