Youth I am young, vulnerable like a fragile package shipped through an earthquake the ground shakes below me, and I try not to break. T.V. Celebrities like salivating salesmen shoot soundwaves through my ears. Video games and tommy gun flames, birth my parent's fears. All this talk of acts of war, of peace, of death, of life. still nothing stops; the richter scale still shudders full of strife. All the noise, "be good, you boys" yet no one seems to care. More care for beer, none want to hear the problems that I bear. I am young, instillable Like an empty vessel ready to be filled, I'm fearful that my future might be spilled.
Roger D. McAtee's Questions:
Does the format change too much in the stanzas?
Does it cause a image of confusion that is often experienced in the teenage years?
Can you tell that it is a teen at the turn of the century?