Boring modern trials of tomorrow
For my sake look at your sorrows
Do they reflect the pure struggle?
Of past men getting lynched, hanged,
Do you feel them? And their trouble?

What is it today that makes you true?
Does it often come across as the colour blue?

Or is it them who hold you back
They who collect and use the phone to attack?

Are your trials related to love?
Do they mimic, resemble the lack of a hug?

The reasons you are so troubled are fixed and forgotten
and not terribly difficult to end that which they blatantly soften

A release from their warm embrace that holds you oh so tight
Given up on that satin, silk laden with frosted delight

Is it just me or've we all come maladjusted
Complacently numb, given in to the "trusted?"

I will hold dearly to what I am made of
Not accepting the gifts that wave in front of us

To what makes me is so more important
Than what makes me resemble "true"
For I am wide awake.
Are you?