doth we dare try? sirens go striking 'gainst the drums. our tongues curl up to the missing gaps 'long our gums. we taste nights meant only f'r the dead. we've writt'n verses and 'loud have had them said:
"we lay on the shoulders of our parents, a first generation lineup of expectations - we are either proof of the american dream, that the system works, or proof we were miserable, unworthy from the point of our conception; listless, brainless, penniless. and what is there to do, but to push against boundary & box & reclaim our stories from the lips & slur of those who've never known us? who have never known the world behind the one sold on tv screens & sensational article headlines? our history is not some little, static thing. it is alive. it is breathing. it is awake. and we --- the youth who used to cling to shadow and bone --- are the creators of it."
