The cold air stings my nose
Making my eyes watery
On a cold summer morning.
This feeling rare and waverly
Passing with the season
Replaced by a constant sting.
The sting is welcome.
It reminds me of youth
Not yet gone, but not present.
Dissipating in a sleuth
A creation of the year 1996.
Oh, to be young and ignorant.
Oh, to be young and wise.
A generation aware of the gap
A generation aware of demise.
The canyon approaches faster
As if downhill we approach on skateboard.
All doubt and no support
Makes a generation irreproachable.
There is nothing you can say
Anymore to make us sociable
Towards your ideals
Your archaic and close-minded ideals.
However, my old friend,
Let us not have this conversation.
Let us reminisce on a common feeling
To promote social justice evasion.
Excuse my sarcasm, it is when I tell the truth.
Truth is, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Instead let us remember that sting.
That summer morning cold air
Which in our youth reminded us
That the day was new, and fair.
Ignorant bliss, granted by adults
To children, who would do the same.
Oh, how I miss that ignorant bliss
When mom and dad were perfect.