American Baby 1988

My world could have changed last week and I’m ONLY STARTING to realize how deeply changed I will forever be because of it. Writing helps to ease my anxiety so much. I started this poem to ease my anxiety about nuclear war in 2022 (also WTF) a while back, and sadly it flowed right into another major challenge my generation faces. Gun violence.

American Baby

American Baby 1988,

I was simply, told that life is great

the burdens of a yesteryear,

solved with logic, tools, and sheer


Chase it. Embrace it. Wear it,

like a skin.

a degree,


without it life is scary

BUT that day I graduated

both celebrated and earned,

the world before me,

I had made it.

gated into thinking

I would be drinking from

a big ole cup of, “I got this”

only to learn,

that piece of paper,

years of working,

prepped and planned,

gave me chances to earn some bread,

but along with it, a constant circle inside my head,

critical thought provoked inside,

leaving me since questioning those above.

That world I entered in ’88,

a year before the wall would fall,

a world changing and growing for the better

No longer a siren would call!

Proliferation, connecting our nations,

nuclear annihilation a plot left for the Simpsons.

Today this ’88 baby,

a regular ole lady, raising her babies,

and questioning it ALL.

Education after all, is the answer.

go to college.

get some knowledge;

but if the byproduct is a critical mind,

What the hell is going on?

We drop off our kids

in the morning,

the school bell rings,

an ignored warning,

a grievance expressed

a gun held to a sad, dark chest

“My pain will become your pain

you WILL remember my name”

Treating precious innocents like it’s a GAME.

What the hell is going on?

Guns stealing our babies

is it, we’re just lazy?

Or is it a sign of more?

A deeper and darker truth

We can’t seem to choose

The solution.

Please find some solution. 🙏🏼✨

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