2010

2010.

Place your hands tightly around my neck,

Dig my grave.

Smother me with your words,

Your hate

Tell me my degree means nothing

It’s too late.

We are the ghosts of our generation

We open our mouths to speak

But we are smothered,

Blithely unaware

Uncovered.

Cover us and leave us alone

We spoke, and the world listened

Fallen upon deaf ears,

Downtrodden.

Occupy.

Til there is nothing left,

of us.

Published by Kristyn Potter

Founder of Left Bank Media. Editor of Left Bank Magazine. Copywriter. I write about music, and New York mostly.