Rendition of My Generation

Dear society,

I saw the best kinds of my generation destroyed by the exchange of toys to technology. Counting down the days until we got to the prime age of seventeen and eighteen. All with the same goal we needed to achieve, we worked and worked like a heavy, old machine. This is my generation. Where students are seen as a test score and numbers written on a page, boxed in by the pressure of an educational cage. Conforming to the rules and teachings that are pressed upon us. Taught to distinguish literary terms and how to find x, but never to find out who we are. This is my generation. Where girls attack girls and boys fight. Mean words, ugly glares and unfair allegations thrown in each other's faces. Now it follows from the hallways to homes from daylight to midnight. Social media representing the face of who we are. Corrupt by likes, retweets and comments, did we plan to take it this far? Our president, just like children, immersed in it all. The government has also taken this fall. Leading it's people into a storm of confusion in credibility. Tuned to the news on television, and the news sent through our phone, we are forcefully pushed in. No longer touching upon important stories we worry about celebrity position. This is my generation. Where radio stations blair and headphones scream the idea of immoral acts. Singing the positives of disrespecting women, rapping every swear word while rhyming all about drug use. They say it's just music so why don't we all relax. These lyrics dig deep into incomplete minds and are the basis for most actions. It begins and sets place in mind for this chain reaction. No longer the use of piano or guitars, no longer the use of strings, no longer the use of winds. This is the music of today. Artists focus on spewing thoughts trashed with mixed messages while undisciplined. This is my generation. Where mental health is not only overlooked but frowned upon. Eleven years to twenty years old, left to deal with drowning in depressing thoughts, our own anxious minds and sick stomachs to dwell on. No one to lean on and no one to talk to. Parents boast how they're always there but actually have no clue. This may be the biggest paradox of them all. The scary thoughts inside their head, the judgmental thoughts of others, the constant pressure of parents, no wonder we feel so small. Adults thinking of new ways to raise their kids but who takes the time to think of us? As our feelings are pushed under the rug they're the ones we wish to discuss. No one to talk to about study standards, grade point average, school friendships and homework. The tired eyes of the woke at two a.m. cry out like clockwork. We were brought up independent, strong and not in the need of others; we take it because god forbid we were looked at as weak. This is my generation. But as broken as we seem we were the ones to make sure everyone got to love who they wanted. We are the ones who continue to fight for women and their choices which were once daunted. We are here to make sure that mental health has a voice of its own. We are here to make sure that every person of every color gets the same treatment which has for so long acted as a milestone. We are here to bring our children up in a different light; we are here to raise our children in what we all together, believe is right. This is my generation.