What has society become...

Where a birthmark is considered a stain against beauty
And we keep our voices silent, afraid to defend the weak,
where people cheer on violence, just because it's the easier route.
We've created isolation within crowds from bytes on a screen,
created complete violation of privacy from ones and zeroes
without realising that it's always been partially for nought, zero.
We've sat silently by while our friends beat on each other with words
that could **** the broken and the words spoken differ from words heard.

We've handed death in a bottle to those who sought it,
instead of providing the care and help they needed
because it was easier to coat emotions in pills
than help a person climb an emotional hill.

We've painted portraits of war, labelled it as history
Coated clear conscience with tangent trivial ties;politics
run rampant on our psyche and we judge people as items
pushing purchasing prices for those who hold quality.

My only best guess is to just hit reset
because the bigger picture hasn't been taken yet.

Pitter! Patter! The sound of the teardrops;
pleading that the harsh tear stops.
She ripped it in two and a half...
million different pieces and parts.

The balloon like an orb as the sun shines,
connected by a string tied to my wrist,
severed by a calm tug.
The balloon drifted with the winds,
floated into the air; and with it...
came a realisation that I am no longer a child.

I am no longer a child...
She ripped it in two and a half...
million different pieces and parts
But there was no Pitter! There was no patter!
There was no sound of teardrops
and sometimes I wished I could learn to cry again.


___

I had let go of a balloon
And picked up a pen.

What if humans didn't have eyebrows
Would we all just hide out
Or would we spend our nights out,
because monsters should not be seen in daylight
and the moon is always in our favour.
We're werewolves and vampires,
And the blue skies lit by the sun
did not belong to us.

We are monsters after all, and daylight
meant exposing ourselves to ridicule and judgement,
as though we could never find beauty in simple;
it is perfect circled smiles with dimples
that were considered cute, and the larger angles
were obtuse while the smaller are acute.

We label it 'fashion statement'
it is make-up on faces,
constant changing tastes,
just to fit in with the popular.
The masses, the larger groups;
always stuck on "what is the latest scoop"
as though life was one big cone of ice cream.


We've been in and out before
We've been through open doors,
We've built buildings
To create ceilings.
Just to keep monsters
and the less popular,
inside.
Stuck between being buried six feet under
and the ceiling.

Lullabies does to eyes
What goodnight kisses
Does to kids.

I've hidden many things
in this lifetime,
take it from someone
who's hidden courage
On a bookshelf
saying that books help
the weak like
an elf and a dwarf
because those who wander
are not always lost
but those who are lost
tend to sit and wonder;
as to how I've come to
hidden courage on a bookshelf
and those books didn't help
because i've hidden courage
from myself.

I read my nights away
Afraid to truly say
What sits on my mind;
Accompanied by those
Deemed unkind,
because an orc's kiss
will always be sweeter
than the thought
of escaped lips
kissing on the cheeks
of someone else.

Take it from someone
who's hidden courage
On a bookshelf...
sometimes books don't help;
sometimes they do to eyes
what goodnight kisses
does to kids.
Sometimes things weren't
Meant to be kept hidden...

Letters to empty corpses,
the paper, absorbent
to the tears I've expelled
I've written my voice,
yelped a little yell,
learnt to correctly spell,
just in hopes that these
letters would reach you.

But they don't...

There's no one left,
no one on the other side,
who once i could confide,
I've left in a pretence
of stride, that these words
are seen by your eyes,
I'd heard you read them
aloud in my head, over
and over your voice echo
like the footstep march
of a million soldiers
all taking that one step closer
to what they spent their life
avoiding. I've pretended
that my letters have reached
you...

But they don't...

Letters to empty corpses...
Hoping you'd forfeit
what you call pride,
from the other side,
read the contents enclosed
by just opening the envelope.

But you don't...

Letters to empty corpses
unread by your eyes
due to some deeper forces,
unread by your eyes
Letters to empty corpses
that bled my heart...

All the letters and papers,
pages from the past,
as empty as shadows
in the night...

I was not the only kid who grew up this way,
taught to believe I was a complete waste
because we'd never been taught to pause
but just to continue on as though ricochets
of words never pierced through the skin
and that the flicker of flame within
will always remain lit, we always pressed play.
It didn't feel that way, the right way;
I'd remember on a specific Friday,
as the other kids raced to enjoy
their time before the weekend arrives,
I heard a kid I didn't know, ask
"Why don't we play vehicles? It's simple".
...
"What's vehicles?" I asked with a smile,
lit by the internal flames of happiness,
a smile lit by an expectation that
fun was to be had.
...
"Vehicles is simple. You're fat, so you
be a truck or a semi-trailer truck.
And you'd try to chase us cars."
...
I didn't press pause, I'd continue to play
with a broken smile lit on my face
as though the pummelling words had no
impact
...
I was not the only kid who grew up this way,
taught to believe I was a complete waste
because we'd never been taught to pause...
and I wished I had pressed pause...
before a spiral of artillery hit my artery
became a stained conscience
on what is really okay to believe in.

Do I believe in the models on screen
or do I believe in the heroes the world hasn't seen.
It's become obstinately obscene...
And I wished in this cataclysm of movies
in this cataclysm of choices I have made
in this cataclysm of regretful mistakes
I wished I pressed pause and simply said

"I may have a big waist,
But I am not a complete waste
because the best things in the world
aren't an illusion created by the eyes."

Let's play vehicles.

We'll all be cars and run thoughts of division over,
because we were all made to be loved.

because we are all beautiful

**No more playing,
It's no longer fun and games,
let's bring a change
by pressing pause
and simply saying...
"I am not a waste".