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The doubting age of modern Teens

Why does fate have the soul-crushing power of controlling my life?

When you consider the implications, is my anger not justified?

The burden of youth is hard to handle,

So many doubts and even more expectations.

How can religion answer my questions,

While it looks past the sufferings of millions?

Maybe, it exists within me.

Maybe, it doesn’t owe me anything more than peace.  

Who am I, and where do I belong?

Who are my people, and who will do me wrong?

They have carefully constructed a box for me, and it has no doors.

Inside is no air to breathe, and outside is not home.

Should we uphold the labels that were attached to us at birth,

Or should we abandon them and decide that we are more than them?

They boast about handing us the world, but it was wrapped in plastic,

And they let out a scream whenever we try to make the globe ours by taking it off.

If all I am is a teenage rebellion, a fire burning like the Sun,

Then why am I burdened with decisions that will define my future?

This space keeps getting more and more confined,

And they say, “passion is great, but money will keep you alive.”

I was born with a heart to breathe and to love,

But in a world that hates love, how can I breathe?

I must love, and I must live,

But I can either choose love or society.

Where do I go?


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