I As Well

I, as well, sing, America I sing with the choir, songs of all the freedom and tragedy. Songs that were not born with me, but are a part of me. Soft Filipino symphony; truly know of songs of the fifty-stars and thirteen stripes My generation only knows of the now We sing the songs of pressure and the lack of knowledge, they all say They chime and hum that we are the future, but they forget the lyrics and Mutter under their breath, losing their faith. My generation can hear the broken record of discouragement; can feel the musical burden on repeat. Tonight I’ll put my headphones on and drown out their out-of-place song. Tomorrow we’ll compose our own melodic future and lyrical plans. My generation must praise them for putting us down, for we— We will rise up and sing on their graves, songs of how we made it and how we made it better, together. I, as well sing, America.