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The generation is distended

With identity crises and heartbreak,

Passion and humor corrupted.

Those who experience suffering

Outside the grip of sensationalism

Welcome the sharp finger of grief

Settling over their lips; sealing their words.

(Better than joining the ranks

Of those prostituting themselves

To sorrow.)

Sheltered among secrets

The silence festers

The memories

Become grotesque

(Hurts are particular about voice,

Preferring to be either so loud

They sound ridiculous

Or not heard at all)

As the weight becomes oppressive

A cry for help is reduced to whimpers

Mixed into the brine

Of the groan

Of the age.

And lost.