JayJay

imagine this:
us, walking barefoot through the wreckage of melted roads
the sun carving epitaphs into a sky too scorched for rain.

They call us the lost generation, 

but how can we be lost when we see everything? 

We inherited the ruins, 

the sins of the past like notifications, 

the echoes of greed carved into policy, 

With voices like flint against steel,
we strike against the silence,
catching fire – not to burn, but to blaze a path forward.
We are not the dying cinders of something lost,
but the first furious glow of something rising.

“Look at her,”

There was a lovestruck girl obsessively drawing hearts on her note card 

“look at past you.”

Sincere love flowed from her fingertips.

She believed she was loved.

“Do you think she's dumb?”

[Alone in] Laughter, lamenting the lost light,

you don’t want to be the forgotten, the lost cause, the missed flight. 

Reason runs thin when your sadness is bountiful,

When I think about tomorrow, 

I see the calculus test I have not studied for 

and the five overdue assignments with long-received