Propagation

By Pragya Sadhana Neog

The new generation, they say, are spoiled rotten.

Funny, for we are the plants of the seed they had sown,

Seeds of competition, comparison and corporate culture,

Now they blame us for being perfectionists, even about colour.

Their propagation coming to frution,

And they dislike it now, so they try to change it through shame.

Every YouTube video thumbnail, every reel says so,

"Progress, not perfection".

But don't we see those kicked out?

Those who prioritised anything but being number one?

Why? For we are stuck between deed and need...

Need to belong, and the learned helplessness

Of being told to stand out amongst our own breed.

Make me into a rebel, a kid without purpose,

For I dare question your rules.

Break my purpose and silence my warnings,

For at the end, it is us who are claimed fools...

But I'ld rather be a fool,

Than a hypocrite whispering lies to my own,

A breath may be a little to strong

If I were to whisper my mind.

For silencing is a hobby of those who propagate...

For they who teach, often forget to listen.

By Pragya Sadhana Neog