Your jaws gyrate in rhythm
with your generation.
The “y” I cannot fathom
which leaves me with grate.
Chairs squeal in pain
as your bodies abuse them
and the floor is scarred
by your reckless movement.
Hair falls over the printed word,
as pens scrawl opinions.
A marginal slip earns you my wrath,
errors drip red across your page.
Minds quiver with self-degradation,
dull eyes see only this moment.
Your teens are aging me;
time is a lesson to learn.
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