They call me Millennial;
Look at at me,
Suit ‘n tie ‘n resume,
“I’m sorry, we’re not hiring at this time,
but we’ll keep your application on hand.”
“So you’ve got a bachelor’s degree?”
“No, but I’ve got ninety plus credit hours”
And I’ve got somethin’ akin to a hundred thousand in debt–
to those hours alone.
I’m twenty two years old,
‘n I live with my parents.
I’ve been unemployed for months,
Because fucks like you won’t hire me.
No I haven’t used up my benefits,
Because while I’m part of the unemployed work-force,
I don’t qualify for shit,
But your forms ‘n applications don’t take that into account,
You just want to avoid those “little shits who game the system”.
You reek of hypocrisy that way,
But as I’m constantly reminded,
I’m in “no position to complain.”
You mistake me.
I’m tired of this shit.
You mistake me, ‘n I’m takin’ you to task for it.
I’ve got this ice cold bite pumpin’ through my veins,
I’m seein’ in tunnels,
‘n it ain’t nothin’ but shit-pyres burnin’ at the end.
You mistake me,
sir.
I’ve dug holes in 115 degree heat,
sir.
I’ve felt that mind-soft word-melt heat stroke sap the strength of me,
Sir.
I’ve hauled fifty pound bags of shit,
Sir.
I’ve braved snakes ‘n spiders ‘n hornets the size of your palm,
SIR.
All because it’s what my job demanded of me,
Sir.
I am dependable.
I’ve brought men and women to orgasm with words alone,
Ma’am.
I’ve got folks who read me worldwide,
Ma’am.
Chances are I read faster, write quicker than you ever will,
Ma’am.
I’ve taught my peers facts you don’t know,
Ma’am.
All because I’m not satisfied bein’ average,
Ma’am.
I am skilled.
You mistake me,
You imagine I’m an overgrown toddler,
Intent on couch warmin’–
Unchecked, uncontrolled consumption,
I will never be worth the shit on your shoe.
You call us Millennials.
You see us drug-addeled,
Sex-straddled,
Debt-saddled,
Fear-rattled,
“Why at your age,
I was workin’ two jobs,
Making less than minimum wage.”
Fuck you,
I’d work three jobs if you’d let me.
I ain’t, I ain’t, I ain’t happy just sittin’ on my ass,
I’m sidelined because you don’t see value in me,
Because I’m not you.
Call us the damn ADHD generation,
You know who popped those pills down our fuckin’ throats,
Told us we weren’t worth shit without ’em?
That would be you.
You know who voted down legislation that would have helped us afford education,
Again, and Again, while we were still hobblin’ around in diapers?
That would be you.
You know who’s put our economy through the fuckin’ wringer,
Who’s let morals be legislated,
Who’s given us endless legitimate reasons to be pissed?
That would be you.
Do you know who’s gonna have to figure the way out of this shit?
That would be us.
Or at least we will,
Once you get over the fact that we’re not you.
We know perfectly well we ain’t perfect,
You can stop harpin’ on it,
Glass fuckin’ houses ‘n all.
By that I mean, it ain’t like you are.
Oh, now you’re pissed?
Welcome to the club,
Feel like gettin’ your fuck on yet?
Feel like drinkin’ yourself flat yet?
Feel like jumpin’ on any chance to escape this yet?
How many problems are you solvin’ shiftin’ blame on someone?
How many problems am I solvin’ blamin’ you for mine?
Fuck who’s fault it is,
That don’t matter at this point.
We’ve all fucked up.
And fightin’ each other ain’t doin’ shit to help.
We’re all people here.
You call me Millennial,
I’ll call you Millennial,
’cause I ain’t no different than you.
I’m just tryin’ to get by best I know how.
