I have a voice.
You try to take it,
And break it, but you can’t.
We aren’t children.
We are the generation after yours.
Yet! You decide what is best for us.
It is a whole new world,
You have so much unaccounted for.
Children.
Kids.
Too young.
Too dumb.
Not there.
Not right.
Not put together,
Well excuse me isn’t that your job?
Stitching our minds and ideas together.
This voice,
A million of us playing the same key.
Mental hospital in D minor.
How would you feel about a revolution?
You make decisions,
Grind nails against black boards.
Writing your dead beat thoughts.
Look away!
Don’t let them say!
Cover our voice, our testament!
But stop. Look around.
Can’t you see?
The revolution is inside me, her, him, us.
Too many of us to say just one.
Stop!
I am not a child, I see the world.
I live in this life.
You can’t deny you don’t know what’s right.
Lost for words, saying actions deserve punishment.
Take a minute.
Listen.
That song,
In my mind,
Played on rewind.
We are the voice.
This is the rebellion.
Our actions a book,
Read it.
Our words have worth,
Listen.
We are crying out for change,
Yet!
Everything remains the same.
I can make decisions!
I have an opinion!
I am not a kid!
I’ve been to hell and back!
Now forty, forty year olds sit,
Make the wrong decisions.
Did you ask? Did you listen? Do you even know?
The problem.
Now stop. Think.
This is the voice of the voiceless.
This is the voice of a generation,
The voice you try to keep quiet.
Our minds are at war,
And you’re wasting our time.