We are damaged goods.

 We are one broken generation.

We are Icarus' offsprings,

Flying too high;

Too near the sun.

Hence we drop down on the ground;

We fall,

Without a dull thud,

Without blood.

We fall,

With a million meteors

Accompanying us on our doomed journey,

Making it appear beautiful

To the people looking up at the sky;

Ignorant of the number of deaths

It requires

To create something so beautiful.

We are a generation of dreamers.

We never break from our slumber

Even though the world is screaming

At our ears,

"Too sensitive!"

"Too honest!"

"Too brave!"

Yes, we are a bit too much

Of everything

Normal people can't take in

And will never understand.

We are too real.

We are a generation of artists.

Each one of us

Is art itself;

And the artist too.

We have never believed 

We couldn't be both.

We are mad;

We are wild;

We are living,

Making this wretched life count;

One breath at a time.

We owe it

To the million chances

We have given ourselves

After gulping down pills;

And slashing wrists.

We deserve every bit 

Of this life;

However sad it is.

We are a generation

That has more to give

Than grainy monochrome photos,

That people mindlessly scroll through.

We give pictures to captions;

And not otherwise.

We shout;

We spill;

We rant.

We cannot compromise,

Because our conservative households

Want us to.

We are voices

That will scream

Until we are heard.

We are a generation of the dark.

Dark thoughts;

Darker souls.

We spill ink

In place of blood,

On blank pages.

We are made of busy days;

And suffocating nights.

We struggle with every bit

Of waking up in the morning,

But don't let the world know

That we'd hoped of not making it

through the night.

We hide;

But with SOS signs;

If anyone would just care

To look for them

In the depths of our eyes.

They scream;

"HELP!"

We are a generation of lovers,

Waiting to be serenaded;

To be cared for;

when we can't do that

For ourselves.

We hope a lot

And that's one of the reasons

For our misery.

We keep our eyes open,

But we do trust a lot.

And when hopelessness visits us,

In the form of heartbreaks

Or betrayal,

That is not quite a pretty sight.

But we are a generation of believers.

We think we can move mountains

And change the course of rivers.

We think the world will change;

For the better.

So we sit,

And wait

For the day

When we'd start feeling alright.

Till then,

We appear as a generation

Of Admirers.

We look at pretty skies

And compose imaginary verses.

We try to shape our mess

And pose for group pictures

We are anxious people

We are too good

For this bad world.

But that's the catch;

We know there are others;

Just like us,

Waiting to be recognized

From a distance.

We live on;

In hope of meeting the one

Who would see us for us

And pass a knowing smile

"You too?"

"Yeah, me too."

Image: Pinterest