A new era grows, on soil planted by the old.
Soil comprised of unknown contents.
This era knows only of events that have been told
While sealed lips allow others to go rotten.
The youth builds upon this dirt of false truths
Made by the fickle ideas of an ancestor’s past.
The roads they shall pave will hold more ruth
Than that that their elders would craft.
In time they will learn to be less stubborn
Than their elders who were much more rigid.
Strife would be something they would not be concerned
The history they’d create would hold much more vivid.
Why does this youth hold so much regret
With this abundant soil their elders have set?
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