No one
knows our names; we are the faceless remnants of our fathers’ dreams
Echoes,
reflections of our mothers hopes, formed by silent whispers to an unborn child
Then,
let loose into the emptiness of our second existence, we slowly lose our faith
and our face
The
hardships of the last generation, mentally imposed onto the youngsters, who
fail to live the lives chased after by their elders
So we
become the masked ones, the children who fail to recognize their own voice,
because the lines before us have said too much.
