by Siera Whitaker
I’m the American Millennial.
In this world of mine,
reign plastic and metal.
My body stands bare
in a spotlight for onlookers to decide
if it measures up to one man-made
as I compete daily with smartphones
to stay afloat in relationships with friends
and to keep the attention of significant others.
I do romanticize about an American Dream seldomly realized today,
fearing self-destructing from the eloquent tongue of the media and its charades.
Shackled by a heedless president who cares neither about my harrowing load
of college debt or future inability to support my aging parents,
I’m deemed a narcissist.
I’m harmlessly interested
in survival and acceptance in a life I’m unsure of,
while forced to conform within a robotic society where my followers on Twitter
matter more than my DNA.
Siera Whitaker is a junior at City Tech. Her work has appeared in City Tech Writer, a journal of outstanding student writing. Asked about her inspiration for the poem, Siera writes: “As a millennial, I feel it is sometimes unfair to be categorized and stereotyped. I wanted to let people know what it is like being a millennial and how it can feel.” Her advice for aspiring writers? “Revising is necessary to become a better writer. Take feedback and grow from it. However, stay true to who you are as a writer and the styles you like to write in.”