A little love

My generation drink, smoke and pop pills at their convenience because its all they think they can do,
an excuse thrown upon other excuses
to alleviate the truth.
the truth it seems forgotten along with subtlety and discourse.
Can't enjoy a night out sober
without feeling some remorse.

Uncomfortable in their own skin, the words to all seem fumbled,
the tongues they speak are
foreign in the morning as they're mumbled.
The foot shake, and hand tapping, all create a beat,
the beat of indecision, anxiety and grief.
At the death, and loss of confidence, the loss of their own words,
just sipping on the poets brew of solitary words.

Are they happy? who knows, its all about getting really f***ed up, saying phrases like
"last night was so amazing", before all the memories are thrown up
upon the pavement outside the front door like an artist with their mouth as a brush,
They puke upon their possessions, the ideas and dreams that we all have.
They grow up naive and plain, and a little misunderstood,
They don't mean to be a bother, they just need a little love.