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A poem about the emerging generations. |
| Starving youth screaming for innocence with every step faltering on high stilts looking above the crowd and seeing nothing. Swaying in the breeze staggering through the storm falling in the dust coughing childhood's fruit onto the ground standing up strong and walking away taller than before. Fabric fluttering clinging to the bones of modesty crying for the soft arms of a happy child but finding only the sticks and stones of a grey statue. Starving, hungry youth pleading for innocence with every sweep of the brush with every number cast aside with every joint that protrudes asking to be born again. |