Helpless and aware and helpless and aware.
Time consumes all flagrant attempts at creating a ******* care.
Without use, you are clung, to the space in between,
the arch of your back and your bedsheet.
The walls eradicate the stasis you have built as your basis that smirks in a ******* CONDESCENDING way. The biggest lie you've been told, in your life, is that your thoughts are the only way.
Wise up to the reality.
Your voice is a mere formality.
But, when it comes back, who is the one you love?
You're stuck between you and what is above.
We worship what is beyond us in these times.
And we blame ourselves for our crimes?
Stand tall,
maybe someday you will be able to crawl
out of this pit.
But you'll still be ****.
You'll stare back at the ceiling,
through it, reality will be revealing.
You are a child,
the world is worthwhile.
But you're scared that what is above.
Will be the hopelessness of what you love.

Hold this monument on a pedestal and watch it mock you.
You are
transparent.
You are
helpless.