The Inbetweeners
Location
We are a generation of inbetweeners:
An undefined group of people searching for a definition
And in seeking for an identity we find those desperate to give us one of their own
Their words ring through our ears like church bells in a christening
We are
Ungrateful, fake, too loud, too proud, ugly, stupid, waste of space
And the list goes ever on.
Their words beat down on us, etching the letters into our skin
Bleeding us, branding us, they burn on,
Hurting more day by day
So we begin to learn distractions:
Arts, hobbies, sports, people
And the pain starts to fade,
Hurting less day by day
And in our new distractions we find new identities,
Not one or two but many
We are painters, writers, dancers, and singers
We are best friends, siblings, sons, and daughters
We are the kids who stay up late because we’re afraid to let a day go by without seeing something amazing
The kids who laugh and cry simultaneously because its too much and not enough all at the same time
The ones who spends days staring out classroom windows dreaming of the whatcouldvebeens and the whatistocomes
We are misfits, screw-ups, and troublemakers
We are the young, the reckless, and the blissfully stupid
We all different, and the same
We have become a generation lost in an endless see of art
Entangled in the ensnaring arms of newfound emotion
And captivated by a growing age of astounding technology
We refuse to be limited by the labels we’ve been given
We are not the lost generation, or the children with no future
We are generation now, and we have no definition, because the list goes ever on.