Generation x, something im writing in my library, when im busy skiving world history honors.

(My beloved patti with my mother... Patti, I love you. Body and soul.)
An angry child adamantly stared
into her mother's eyes...
They, in turn, were staring back
Pondering [her child's lies]...

Both of them fought pretty often...
...leaving thier tears in puddles...
No more laughs, no place for fun
No more needfor cuddles.

"You don't understand my generation!"
lamented the teenage lass.
"You don't get it, what i go through
In school, in my class!"

The mother and daughter soon aged,
Only to soon forget those grudges.
They both forgot how bad it felt,
when they were driven ti their edges.

The girl became a lady and soon gained
a daughter of the "next generation"...
...
This poem can not and does not conclude
It gets repeated, that above conversation.