“Eulogy of Doomed Teens”,
What is there to comfort doomed teens?
Nothing but the sound of clanking blades,
Nothing but our vices better left unseen,
take us from the sun and give us shade.
There are no apologies to be made;
just tears to be shed.
Give us no insincere words;
they are better left unsaid.
We are without homes in our house-towns,
without meaning or purpose.
We are ridiculed and made into clowns;
we feel like a travelling circus.
In what state will we pass in?
None but one of fear,
surrounded by red-and-blue sirens,
if our cries for help fall on deaf ears.