No youth, in any generation, other than ours, have stood back and watched our political masters, who have their own masters, lead this country into oblivion. We have never been rubber stamps to the ideals of individuals who think their way is the only way, but here we are, watching, helpless, silent.

STORIES FORM A DIFFERENT TIME

When did we stop fighting?
When did we let our political class assume total control?
When did we begin to accept injustices as norm?
When did our spirit die?

There was time,
Not long ago,
When prison visits were a badge of honor,
Because they represented our idealism against failed leadership,

There was a time,
Not long ago,
When the youth of this country were heard,
And not just mere rubber stamps to the interests of the powers that be,

The 80s and 90s,
Were our glory years;
The sort of stuff we see in museums,
As a reminder of what our heritage once was,

There was time,
They feared killing us;
Because they knew, for every death,
A hundred more would rise.

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