I don't remember growing up
'It is to you, the youth, we are leaving Europe',Says a member of the Council of Europe following the reception.
I feel the weight of my rosé as I inhale the smoke into my lungs.
Having thought I would have kicked the habit of cigarettes by 24,
Contemplating the end of the Eurozone, globalization and climate change,
His questions about what I want for Europe seem ominous at the least.
I'm barely old enough to reach past utilitarian principles of happiness,
Grappling with Youtube tales of Hayek and Keynes, and news headlines:
Syria, Greece, and all the countries that are not even mentioned,
Coverage is not profitable or viable – be it as it may,
My response seems to excite my distinguished conversation partner,
But really I am struck with fear,
What is it you are expecting of me?
At family gatherings I see the fear in my family's eyes,
Will she have a job? The lifestyle we were hoping for her?
Unemployment
Did she secure an internship?
Unemployment
Is further education simply an escape from reality?
And I'm just scared my failure to retain long-term relationships,
Is a sign of growing up to be like my mother.
I have always had a tendency towards polemic,
Don't talk to me about nail polish, football or drunken adventures,
But I have come to realise that what I say matters,
And sometimes I am scared of the words coming out of my mouth,
Because most of the time I just don't know.
I could regurgitate what I have heard on the news,
But as the words slip my lips I have already identified:
My limited understanding of economics,
Two different areas of law I'm unfamiliar with,
At least three different spins, depending on the different interests involved,
Research I would like to run through,
And so many things I simply don't know about myself yet,
How I want to live,
How I want my children to grow up,
And the demands I can make on others:
How to live their own, very own, lives.
Poetry by Angie-M
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Written on 2012-06-15 at 04:06
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