Selfish and indulgent are the young,
Complaining of life’s slings and arrows
That were disguised as love and boundaries
Hardened by the labors they saw
And resented.
Wearied by the privilege of innocence
Angered by the future of culpability
Drowning in the wealth of untapped resource
Youth isn’t wasted on the young
It’s carried.
A cross to bear.
“Oh, to be old and powerless,” sigh the children
For heavy is the head that begins life anew.
10-6-08 at 12:34pm
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