the children
you wanted to burn
are running wild-
scurrying with the wind,
traveling with the sway of
tree branches and migrating birds.
these organisms,
as you probably consider them,
are not just the
charming creepy,
kids you see on the block.
They're hidden behind
Wishy-washy therapy
sessions and the
gates of hell.
this generation wanders
around life
at its own pace
until its legs are sore
and in 18 years or so
we'll all be protesters
until our legs are sore
again
and again and-
fuck, it never ends.