My generation is a quiet rebellion,
a monster without a face,
but a monster with a heart.

have you ever heard the story
of the bagpiper of Hamelin?
he was the first #influencer,
the first to have a rat race
follow him
we grew up on that tale.

we were thrown
into fairytales, and
raised with hope,
no one to tell us that sometimes
the moon won’t come out,
the magic won’t make it till midnight,
that sometimes, Alice won’t go
to Wonderland,
she will be far too tired
to follow curiosity

we weren’t told that
one day instead of saying
“once upon a time, there was kind girl”,
the grown-ups will suddenly switch to
“life isn’t a fairytale, you silly girl”

so my generation picks on split ends
and hides acne scars
dying inside, crying inside, feeling everything
but blank outside, like a canvas not prepared
for any color, the first to
live in a grey area, but called out for
existing in just black and white

my generation isn’t just young people
it isn’t just confused teens
or scared adults
it’s a wave of broken links,
reaching out to make new
bonds, it’s a bridge between
love and intellect,
born into new but brought up
by the old.

we struggle to change
our first line of defence
the one drilled into our hearts,
one that wants to scream in frustration
we struggle to collect our thoughts
and pull back the catalyst
that was raised in our souls,
we struggle so that another generation
doesn’t fall prey to a flash flood
of innocent blood, and half-baked opinions

my generation isn’t just a century-old
it began a Millenium ago
it’s every thought, every word uttered
in love, every song written against hate;
we are quiet rebellions,
each fighting our very own battle,
but also fighting a common war.