Death Of Youth

Death Of Youth

Cramming for yet
another nameless, faceless paper
that has to be passed
Or else.
All hopes hinge on tomorrow,
Succeed and face another higher trial
Or fail and crash into deepest oblivion,
No questions asked.

Is this what it is all about?
To produce only what society demands
and be dragged up another level
Or down?
To be just another number,
surrounded by mere figures,
inserted into a sea of statistics
To fill in the gaps?

And then to settle into staidness
and concentrate on minute details,
cash career maybe family,
Or not.
Forgetting that spark of youthful ambition
that could have grown to blaze a trail of fire,
stand out in history and die down to leave
An indelible mark.

Is it come to this?
That soaring hope has to give way
for the feel of concrete under feet
Or nothing?
To refrain from carving out a destiny,
for the chance to fly an ordinary pitch,
all because of the fear of crashing to
An ignominous end?

Is it thus our fate, to exist in
The City Where Dreams Die?