This dream I’ve lived a thousand times,
Thoughts feel as though they're crimes.
Demons of the past trapped within my head,
Perhaps I am better off dead.
Seems to be no escape from this prison,
Though the window has a nice view.
Constructed within my tormented vision,
Maybe I can find the key to get through.
The only reason I don’t **** myself,
Is the will to live forever.
The disease will be one day be dispelled,
I will be my own successor.
Originally posted: http://melancholy.website/post/118738352540/escape-revised
Collectively we will all cease to be.
That is, in the form we inhabit currently.
When our bodies rot beneath the dirt,
Our essence passes to a place devoid of hurt.
The chemical flaws of our bodies will be irrelevant,
Replaced by peace, understanding and entrancement.
Christians call it heaven, God and Trinity.
But I believe inside of us all is divinity.
This life will no longer matter,
In death we will have no masters.
We are nothing more than a crop for them to reap,
A promise of freedom they would not keep.
Our unnamed masters use poison to keep us weak,
Fear mongering through media: “Your future is bleak”.
Even our food is impure, Monsanto profits off poor health.
Gotten so bad you can’t even tell if it’s them on the shelf.
This circus is run by puppets who are obsolete and insane,
Freedom of religion, internet and sexuality?
To them our freedoms are just a game.
Being free yet locked in a cage is the reality.
Parasite; the true face of politics.
Parasites that require no competence.
Politicians - no traitors, who don’t answer for crimes,
Men, no - they are insects who were born without spines.
I watch you, but you cannot see me.
Invisible, untouchable and persistent.
A ghost in a machine; a man within a dream.
A watcher who cannot see.
I try to speak, but what you hear isn't my voice.
Voiceless, faceless; lack of true existence.
Though I can still watch you from a distance.
Your eyes as cold as mine, perhaps I cannot even see you.
But I feel you, and I think you sense me.
Are we both trapped within the same dream?
Parasitic infection, brain overtaken.
When the soul dies, I’ll fully awaken.
Constant conflict, the machine rejects me.
Chemical warfare declared, the mind is not free.
Machines can be rewired to suit the pilot,
Though the changeover can be quite violent.
Trapped within my own head,
The voices within want me dead.
I am infected, weakened and constantly irate.
Barely stable within the chaos that is my mental state.
Anxiety and disconnection from my own existence.
Reality is blurred, I am losing resistance.
Why am I the one, who myself I must fight?
Losing track who am I, am I human or parasite?
Tumblr Post: http://melancholy.website/image/115439203375
— The End —