They call us the generation of the selfie.

They say we are vain.

They say we are foolish and self-absorbed.

They tell us our phones are the reason we're so fucked up.

As if they didn't do that long before our fingers every typed out a text message.

They force their inhuman beauty ideals down our throats

And we swallow them whole

Because self-hatred doesn’t go straight to our thighs.

They speak of how they made something of themselves

Yet forget they are the reason we can’t do the same.

They say we weren’t raised right,

As if they aren’t the ones that raised us on a steady diet of lies and hate.

So let them mock us

Tell us we are never good enough.

They won’t see as we grasp power by the throat

With these phones in our hands,

As we take every crumb of opportunity they drop on the floor.

But they will have no choice but to acknowledge us

When they see what we can do,

When we crush their half-assed attempts to bring us down.

They will have to see us when we rise above them

And document every moment of it on our snapchat story.