Wasted Youth – Original Poem


By Mark A. Leon

Nothing mattered but the moment we were in
Squandered dreamers

It’s all captured now behind the glass window
A museum of memories rekindled in our dreams

Tripping over the VHS library
Scarred by the rock n roll lifestyle of a suburban nightmare
A manifestation of a perfect world
Kids played, parents loved and the world was a small bubble of safety

I remember a different time where a fifth of Mad Dog and a fantasy in the pages of Playboy behind the quick stop was the American dream

Satan toyed with our youth, not in fire or fear
Nor pain
Nor tears

Our souls locked up in the boredom of utopia
A 40 in the woods
Our future secured with one misguided orgasm

Our moms and dads pledged to love and honor for the sake of the children
Love poured down the drain as emptiness filled the bedroom

No white picket fence to protect us
Just John Hughes to keep us in high school forever
Don’t you forget about me cries Bender as he raises his arms to the air
End frame, end scene, end film

The varsity jacket still smells new as I slide it on listening to the chimes of achy bones

You can’t go back
On the field, the jerseys read the same numbers, but new faces
Cheerleaders soon to be moms because they trusted he would pull out
Players running a 4.4 today then holding a 44 to their forehead tomorrow

The curse of youth is not the unattainable; but the unrealized

With wings on our heels, we raced for the finish line
What if we stopped?
What if we questioned what are we racing for?
What if we fled?

I’m leaving on a jet plane.
I didn’t.
I took that minimum wage and squandered it on I don’t know

On the corner
In a town
Like any other town
In a place
Like any other place

I watched the world pass by
From feet, to bike, to car, to wheelchair


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