I was inspired to write this poem on a summer evening, sitting in a room with people I barely knew but already adored. This poem is about a lot of things. It’s about those who are lost, in search of a solution. It’s about the little moments shared with your favourite people. It’s about being young. Being able to love, embrace and find ourselves through the smoke.
This one’s for the young hipster teens with their wasted smiles
and ripped shorts with their shredded dreams
and sharp tongues, raising empty beer cans into the night sky,
belting out lyrics to songs they loosely know the name of.
This one’s for the young lovers, drunk on the
idea of love and lack of sleep, suffering through
the nugatory angst but end each night with chaste kisses.
This one’s for the ones who’ve already lost
themselves, already trapped in the cold with
empty holes in the corner of their minds.
This one’s for the young writers
who stay up at ungodly hours staring
at blank pages, waiting
for their coherent thoughts
to untangle themselves.
This one’s for the lucid dreamers.
The one’s for the wanderers who
can’t find their home. This one’s for the ones
who don’t want to.
This one’s for the young ones,
the ones who spend their lives underneath star filled skies;
the ones who are lonely, in need of a friend — for the ones
who have somebody but deserve better;
the ones with stoned expressions,
and the ones who smile too easily.
This one’s for the young ones
before they forget who they were
and get lost in who they’re becoming.
