youth

 they inter their rooms, they inter their dreams, the youth and their plans, surrounded by there books and paints, and pens and ideas, and there somewhat naive condescending , they`v got a roof atop their heads, and a hot meal everynight, and they assume, that there is no excuse for doing wrong.

I want to write about the youth with so much potential the youth with fresh faces and fresh thoughts, the youth , that are so sadly ready to change the world.

I want to write about the youth with a cause, the youth with hopes, the youth who spend there Saturday nights reading and dreaming and plotting, the youth with different minds, the youth who dont appreciate the sugar coated emptiness that is there pop culture, I want to write the youth who dont understand, yet understand perfectly what life is, the youth that later realize that life is all a big artificial show, that everything you dreamed about when you were 17 everything you thought could come to those who work those who wait, dosent really come and you end up being a 35 year old sitting by your kitchen table, waiting for the bell to ring.
waiting for something.
and then you get tired of waiting, for people, for a city , for a nation to see the beauty you create, but they never do.
the youth is wonderful, and spectacular, and hopeful and full of potential.
but the youth is tragically blind, you wish you could tell them about the loop wholes ahead. but you somehow remain perfectly seated.