I am an achiever of no success I call my own,
I am but an arid delay, people chose to hone,
Trying to find in that center of deceit, something I call myself,
Or once again become just “makings” stored in our shelf.
What do expectations differ from their own dream?
Do they even begin to see what is “me?”
For who I am, disappointment I may seem,
Or is this thing the “you,” you didn’t want to be.
You say nothing, yet your silence kills,
The words unsaid are all I hear,
You do what you don’t want to, just like drills,
I can’t appreciate, yet we still endear.
Is there a gap between us, I cannot see?
Betwixt us is a worlds away we cannot reach,
Are the words unsaid as much as the sea?
Or are we the ones who don’t wish the beach.
There is an impassable wall that stands today,
Made unending by our own delay,
With no peaks nor furrows to count,
Neither edges nor humps to mount,
It is us, the ones that need to climb,
But neither of us truly find the time.
About how a child may feel when he/she has miscommunication with the parent/s. And they both reason the difference in culture gap or due to changing times that it feels as though they are missing a generation.