There we stood, at a point in history,
Monumental and meaningless.
Kids of suburban America,
Privileged rascals and brats
Living an illusory fantasy to which we were blind.
Trapped in a cycle of hedonism, reaching higher and higher to grasp, with shivering hands and hungry eyes, a piece of transcendence, which we coveted so dearly, hidden just a few steps around the corner, but never there.
There were only more corners.

Art by: S. Gamburd
Edit by: Stevo
Poem by: Stevo