Early Days

The poor management and maintenance of youth
Accosted by oracles masking the truth
As if in a miasma of greed and obsession
Being dismissive and boastful, our finest profession
Desire for rebellion percolating through our skin
You gavage us your disappointment like we’re Huckleberry Finn
So naturally we react and our blood starts to boil
The churning of our rage wound tightly into a coil
It’s in our nature to covet your exemption from immaturity
But our lack of will and sheer laziness is our biggest impurity
However, you know, it won't last forever
Our spirit and our passion will dissolve altogether
It’s an absolution, the turning of age
An identity dilution, a minimum wage
But when our ‘phases’ are through, we'll indulge like you do
In little boxes of blue, well isn't this déjà vu?