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A Bag of Blood

I am not a fan of my darkness.

I don't want to wake up in a life

Where I consider not existing

A reasonable option.

 

I can't handle the daily grind,

The salaries and insurance bills,

And all these things I read

On how ****** the world is.

 

I just want to create things --

I don't want to cause harm,

But I am a source of profit:

Exploitable and disposable.

 

Suicide is not what I want, though.

I don't want to do that to those that care.

I just want to escape from this place,

This entire ******* civilization.

I can't stand it...

 

I don't even want to write about it;

I've done it enough.

I'm just so tired of this world,

Of profit margins and bottom lines.

I want to build a cabin in the woods,

Somewhere,

And live off the land --

To forge my own existence.

 

But that is abandoning humanity:

I feel an obligation to fight for the future,

Like I should give my life for what is right,

For a more empathetic world,

A world of understanding --

Something utterly fleeting,

And probably impossible.

But the fight must be mounted.

Someone must stand.

 

This world they have built will not last:

Infinite consumption is a hoax,

A lie, a grand delusion.

It will fall, whether we fight it or not.

The real fight is to ensure

That the world that rises

After this one collapses

Is built for the good of all mankind,

And not just the elite classes.

 

Man has been ruled by greed for too long.

We have been abused and sent to die

In pointless wars and toxic mines.

They preserve themselves:

Where a yacht is pocket change,

While half the world is starving.

They're a parasite that won't quite die:

A tick that keeps finding a crease in the skin

To sink its filthy face in.

 

We are a bag of blood,

Running dry,

Infested with ticks,

Swollen beyond imagining.

 

This is not a world worth preserving -

It is a rigged game,

It is a disgrace.

We should be embarrassed

That for all of our creativity,

Our intelligence and passion,

Our insight and foresight,

We allowed this to happen;

This global cataclysm.

It's so ******* depressing.

It's why I can't stand waking up

Some times.

 

I just hope that, maybe, one day

I will be able to wake up

In a world that has learned from the errors

Of this one.

I really hope it happens.

I really hope I get to see it.

Oh, how magnificent it might be.

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Written by
forrest-jorgensen
American
Published
Jul 25, 2014
Lines·Words
75·431
Tags
#love#depression#life#death#humanity
Permission

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