Times Change (Poem)

We live in an ever advancing era, where technology is constantly changing. What worked before, doesn't work now. The old ways are no longer how we do things, as we're finding new and exciting ways to make a living. Sounds good, right? For some, maybe. But not for those who rely on the old traditions to help raise them, who end up burned by they're promises.
Here's a poem that takes a look at that outlook.

TIMES CHANGE

The old ways no longer work,

they just slither and lurk.

Waiting for the young to wander,

promising fame and riches yonder.

All that's met is years of nothing,

looking up a promise tied on string.

The young  are trapped in old ways snare.

Going on, there's so much they can bear.

To go it alone is all they can do.

A risky decision that becomes too.

Pockets empty, pride shot,

the young walk away as old ways rot.

They see the world is open, not closed and shut.

Old ways watches in a darkened hut.

The young has opportunities not before seen

the world isn't so loud, nasty and mean.

The young breath in, head held high:

"I can do this", they say, "I can get by".

And as they dive in to a world of possibilities,

old ways choke on its own discrepancies.

 No longer are they the ruler, not any more.

Now they're just known to make young sore.

A hard lesson learnt for old ways;

you can't keep the young at bay.

Can they be blamed? Not in the least.

Its just the nature of the beast.
What used to be inspiration,
now faces expiration.
This is why their clients run,
because they know old ways are done.

By saying hello to ambition,
young says goodbye to tradition.
A sunken, sullen soul,
handing over treasures they stole,

and seeing young go far in their creative range,

old ways are forced to admit; "times change".