generation why

why?

She was a storm in her skin. She was bright blue hair and silver rings and a twisted smile that made you think of the ocean just before it swept you away.

There was a tempest in his bones. There was a fire that turned his eyes gold and his thoughts to infernos, each spark flying through his torn skull in a blaze of flame.

They were a nymph and a demon, a girl and a boy, trying to prove that they were alive in a world that seemed to be dying around them. They were the next generation, the vessels of yesterday and the myths of tomorrow. But, for now, they were the rebels of today.

So they snuck out at midnight and painted the bleak sky with the colors of their fury. The sun rose in their eyes as they scratched their worn legacies on glossy paint and blank lives. Their weariness of the frozen town they were trapped in echoed through empty houses and abandoned dreams.

The words never got to them, the words uttered by lips older than theirs, words like "worthless", "helpless", "cursed", "selfish". They were destined for more than this shell of a life had to offer them. Why not embrace the fact that they were hopeless, that they all wanted to die?

The headlines that everyone pretended to not notice seemed to glare down at them. On days like this, where the words beat down on them and the sun seemed to frown upon their suburbian bubble, they ran - climbing metal and pounding pavement. They seemed to have sprouted wings - if only to get away from this place.

Away.

Away from the idle chatter and honey-slow sighs and the smiles that seemed to drip down their faces, melting in the heat of their fire.

Away to the flashing lights and neon signs and shiny lives.

It's okay it's alright we're going to die but keep still, won't you? We got a long way to go, riding our bikes and pretending we're flying. Like our wings wouldn't melt, like we wouldn't fall out of the sky, like our dreams are loud enough to wake everyone up. Like we aren't rotting in our skins, talking about how time flies. Well, it does fly, and it'll get hotter and the newspapers will go up in smoke and this is not a fairy tale. This is me going insane, but at least I got you when my head's spinning and the world's dizzy. We climb in the car, like we can get anywhere far enough to change all of this. The headlights show me something I don't wanna see. Let's leave for good.

And they did.