The path is near, so near, but clearly not perceived,
Dark forests overpower.
Who will be their guide?

Captives in the vortex
Of social media mania.
Who’ll redirect their energies?

Confused by misplaced confidence
In superficial friends.
Who offers them true amity?

Manipulated, targeted by
Relentless, greedy marketing.
But who will tell them so?

Beauty in their faces, in their bodies,
In their minds and souls.
Who will help them see?

Longing to experiment, test
The escapade of carnal love.
Who urges them to wait?

Looking for sensations, unfamiliar,
To enrapture, captivate.
Who cautions of enslavement, of early ruination?

Some were weaned on hate, rejection and neglect,
A noxious formula.
Who now will nurture them?

Witnessing hypocrisies, driven to ennui,
To hopeless cynicism.
Who’ll overturn despair?

The truly gifted, truly tragic Malcom X,
Nat Turner, Michael Jackson.
Who will set them free?

Impelled by impotence to change their sad surroundings,
They turn to violence.
Who will empower them, give them other means?