Adolescent us

We are the 19th century’s mental issue, The unheard voices hammering in your head, The infants you’ve birthed, The ones you won’t give a bed. We are the new world’s glory, The new world’s only praise. Our elders point out our faults, Whereas they can’t grasp our fate. Still, we hold crowns of precious mines, For we are kings and queens, Yet we wander the vast earth With all her beauty and might, Called out as losers and outcasts of our time. We thrive for the future When nothing’s surely steady, Earn nothing from trying But a disappointed glance, Yet we yearn for the day When our time will be ready— Not clutching to a past That is drowning in despair. For we are the dream chasers, The catchers, The free-will shakers.