I am
an angry adolescent
squatting knee-deep in long-built-up
shame and trepidation,
shaving away fears, inquiries, curiosity
for civil disobedience
for spoken incredulities
for absolutely certainties
and what is with these angry
Old Folk?
they guard our faces with stolen leg and teeth braces
but they know their END is soon to come
so why do they excel in heart beatings,
stern meetings?
what is with these baby trees?
and why would they bring FIRE???
for all the time we mangle fears and schwaste our years
in furtive paranoia.
and IFF you add in all bad grammar,
you'll never get a better bet of them wasting their time.
so here I am,
a stupid adolescent
who can't BELIEVE that they can SEE
that future
Author notes
Option 1:
"A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they
shall never sit in."
-Greek proverb
A contest entry
- Option Time (Yay!) by City-of-Angels.
400 points, ended August 31, 2008, 10 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Merci De Lire
Comments
-
..I really like this..It's different than a lot of poetry I've read lately. I must say you have a very good vocabulary haha, that's coming from somebody who thought she did too
. I can relate to this poem. Good job and good luck in the contest!
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