When I go out each day,
Despite what I might say,
There's an immense rage--
A mental cage--
That just won't go away.
I keep it all inside,
Where I wish that I could hide.
'Cause without that net,
There'd be much regret,
And so much more homicide.
There's poison in the masses' veins.
There's torment waiting to be aimed.
And I see it in their eyes.
And while I wish that I could maim--
To reciprocate their ****** blame--
I guess I'm just not that sort of guy.
The sort of guy who gives a ****,
'Bout all those who they torment, it...
It's not something I'm proud to say,
But I'm gonna say it anyway:
I feel it when I go out each day.
I see them cry; I see them hurt,
And, sure, I go on high-alert--
I WISH that I could care for them--
But then I remember a time back when...
When I hurt the same and they...
They'd do what I do...
When I go out each day.
Now ask yourself:
*Am I that way...?
I feel like we're all (most of us, at least) shackled by our own histories of pain and suffering, and those shackles are simultaneously a lens that skews how we see the world. I don't condone the above behavior (that's not to say it's entirely untrue of me, personally, just that I'm working to change it), and I can only hope that maybe presenting it in such an ugly way will help to awaken some inner truths for others. I don't want to cast blame, I just want to see some more happiness and unity in the world.