Warning: The following poem could shake some people's sensitivities to the core. Read at your own risk. I accept no responsibility for any negative sentiments!

Written from the perspective of a concerned and frustrated baby boomer, this poem delivers a sharp critique aimed at Generation Z and the younger generations. It challenges them to reflect on their demands for change without personal sacrifice, urging them to understand the value of hard work and shared responsibility. With a tone that is both direct and uncompromising, this piece hopes to serve as a call to action for younger voices to match their aspirations with effort and accountability.

You, with your soft hands, unmarked by toil,
Demand from the calloused what they built from soil.
The roads you walk, the lights that gleam,
Were forged by the sweat of another's dream.

 

You decry the engines, the coal, the heat,
While tapping your screens from a cushioned seat.
No blisters, no bruises, no nights without sleep—
Yet you howl for change, and the price? Too steep.

 

You scorn the cars, the flights, the grind,
But where is your burden, your sacrifice in kind?
To toil, to labor, to truly create—
That is the lesson your cries underrate.

 

You point with clean fingers at the lives we’ve led,
While refusing to tread where the hardest bled.
You preach of a world where all is fair,
But fairness begins with earning your share.

 

So lower your gaze, and roll up your sleeves,
Let your actions speak louder than the dreams you weave.
Respect is not granted; it's won in the fire,
Through work, through grit, through a burning desire.

 

Stop shouting for others to cede and retreat—
First walk the hard road, let it blister your feet.
Only then, when you’ve truly understood the fight,
Will your voice ring clear in the call for what’s right.