The Inbetweeners

We are a generation of inbetweeners:

An undefined group of people searching for a definition

And in seeking for an identity we find those desperate to give us one of their own

Their words ring through our ears like church bells in a christening

We are

Ungrateful, fake, too loud, too proud, ugly, stupid, waste of space

And the list goes ever on.

Their words beat down on us, etching the letters into our skin

Bleeding us, branding us, they burn on,

Hurting more day by day

So we begin to learn distractions:

Arts, hobbies, sports, people

And the pain starts to fade,

Hurting less day by day

And in our new distractions we find new identities,

Not one or two but many

We are painters, writers, dancers, and singers

We are best friends, siblings, sons, and daughters

We are the kids who stay up late because we’re afraid to let a day go by without seeing something amazing

The kids who laugh and cry simultaneously because its too much and not enough all at the same time

The ones who spends days staring out classroom windows dreaming of the whatcouldvebeens and the whatistocomes

We are misfits, screw-ups, and troublemakers

We are the young, the reckless, and the blissfully stupid

We all different, and the same

We have become a generation lost in an endless see of art

Entangled in the ensnaring arms of newfound emotion

And captivated by a growing age of astounding technology

We refuse to be limited by the labels we’ve been given

We are not the lost generation, or the children with no future

We are generation now, and we have no definition, because the list goes ever on.