The howl of my generation
August 9th 2011 00:52
:
isn't as moving
The voices of the generations before me echo loudly, drowning out my own.
I want to be heard.
But who have I to speak for except my generation of apathy, of the diseased and dying minds of hopeless dreamers; their thoughts a spark that never ignited, lost in a wasteland of half-formed ideas.
Their hollow hearts nothing more than the remnants of a fire that had burned brightly in the chests of their forebearers.
The fruit of their passionate loins nothing more than rotting meat, wasting away in a world of technology and 'innovation'.
Their fight was in vain.
The better world has spoiled us, left us like priveliged children with no ideals or beliefs or morals or leaders, left us to copulate in greed, the virus spreading.
The next generation is doomed to mediocrity.
I want to be heard.
But who have I to speak for except my generation of apathy, of the diseased and dying minds of hopeless dreamers; their thoughts a spark that never ignited, lost in a wasteland of half-formed ideas.
Their hollow hearts nothing more than the remnants of a fire that had burned brightly in the chests of their forebearers.
The fruit of their passionate loins nothing more than rotting meat, wasting away in a world of technology and 'innovation'.
Their fight was in vain.
The better world has spoiled us, left us like priveliged children with no ideals or beliefs or morals or leaders, left us to copulate in greed, the virus spreading.
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