Our Last Chance

War is all that we have seen;
mothers turning into human shields,
fathers’ pride sharp as the bullets cast,
children—younger than me—crying goodbyes.
Why should we know of peace?

Misery is all that we have known;
discrimination lurks in the flashing lights,
polluted lungs from air and addictions,
sickness rampant in the roaring '20s shadow.
Why should we know of happiness?

Blue screen is all that we have faced;
bodies shrunk into the pits of self-esteem,
bloodied hallways are our generation’s regret, 
birthdays are celebrated with student graves.
Why should we know of safety?

This decaying home is all we have;
too many lives have been lost to ignorance,
fools rule the world per civilization’s pattern, 
negligence toward humanity and nature.
Why should we know of our future?

Upon adulthood this is all that is left;
nostalgia stolen by mankind’s cupidity,
a dust bowl of laughter and gummy grins,
erratically running to fulfill grim expectations.
Why should we know of true teenhood?

We are told we are the last chance for peace.
We are told we are the last chance for happiness.
We are told we are the last chance for safety.
We are told we are the last chance for a future.
We are told we are the last chance for teenhood.
We are the generation of last chances.