Teen, do we care?
Do we care who we hurt on our search for significance?
When our teenage bodies find comfort in roaring guitars and endless drum loops,
Do we stop and think of our moms wanting to fall asleep
In the next room so she can earn another day’s meal
Getting up an hour before we do?
How many moments of self-affirmation in our prison of comfort
Are worth another’s second of pain?
How many "warm fuzzies" will make us whole?
We are searching for something not of this world.
Author Note: i had the music blaring when i wrote this. then i got the guilt trip.
About the author
I live with my wife, an artist, in Indianapolis. Besides poetry, I like to take photographs, read books, travel overseas, and listen to news/political podcasts, college lectures and classic literature. You can read about my approach to poetry on my poetics page. To stay in touch, follow me on Twitter or connect on a variety of other social networks.
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