Ode of the Geriatric Millenial

I was born surrounded by records , then tapes, then CDs,

raised on dial-up, wired in pixels and memes —

learned to fear Y2K, the meltdown of clocks,

and watched MySpace give way to infinite feeds.

I grew up believing the American dream

was a ladder to climb, not a spiral scheme.

Photo by Reid Zura on Unsplash

Now rent’s through the roof, homes slip through my grip,

can’t touch a place in the Bay or in BK.

They tell us to leave, “find cheaper towns,”

while my paycheck vanishes, citybound dreams.

And here we are, under headlines that sting,

a felon just crowned — where did we go wrong?

Some say, “Quit whining, it’s just how it is.”

But I’m tired of “adapting” to constant misfits.

Photo by Saw Wunna on Unsplash

Oh, America, promise of progress and change,

what happened to hope, to futures we’d claim?

Now it’s election cycles like reruns on loop,