Generation

I am in love with whoever I am talking to at the moment And at the moment I am talking to myself. I have caked my face with conforming thoughts And put any hint of individuality on the shelf. I am a pretty shell full of stolen thoughts, Shattered innocence, and broken dreams. I shout with the riot and pledge to the cause Without understanding what it all means. I live to be happy but my joy is short lived And sin in my favorite fixation. I am blind to the fatality I court. I am the epitome of a falling generation.