I saw the world through different eyes today
There was no clouded judgement, fake, pretentious nature
I could laugh at anything
Be anyone
Pity anything
Yet the moon still carried on shining
And although we squabbled over art I realised
Art is nothing but a squabble
For sobriety restrains the person I can be
And the person I am
And those restraints keep me in a place I don't want to be
They lock me down in fear and in shame
For the person I can be is caged
It screams out
Opinions which deter people and denounce
And as I see you run through the streets
Ever searching for a place to fit in
My ankles become weak
They buckle
They cannot carry me
For I find no easier place to fit in
Than my very own skin
The place of an outcast
An ungrateful brat
Who drools at the thought of an empty mindless space
Where no judgement, snobbery or scoff is placed
For the idea of a flee ridden rug,
A broken kettle,
A piercing mattress,
An unread journal
It SCREAMS to me freedom
A natural scribe,
A just life
An unjustified rhyme
It calls to me
It calls on and on
But tomorrow I will be the person
The world destined me to be
An untuned symphony
Beating away with a monotone rhythm
Because doubt rears its ugly head
Churns a putrid dread
Which I carry to my empty cage of a heart
And I carry it on
And on
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC
I saw the world through different eyes today
There was no clouded judgement, fake, pretentious nature
I could laugh at anything
Be anyone
Pity anything
Yet the moon still carried on shining
And although we squabbled over art I realised
Art is nothing but a squabble
For sobriety restrains the person I can be
And the person I am
And those restraints keep me in a place I don't want to be
They lock me down in fear and in shame
For the person I can be is caged
It screams out
Opinions which deter people and denounce
And as I see you run through the streets
Ever searching for a place to fit in
My ankles become weak
They buckle
They cannot carry me
For I find no easier place to fit in
Than my very own skin
The place of an outcast
An ungrateful brat
Who drools at the thought of an empty mindless space
Where no judgement, snobbery or scoff is placed
For the idea of a flee ridden rug,
A broken kettle,
A piercing mattress,
An unread journal
It SCREAMS to me freedom
A natural scribe,
A just life
An unjustified rhyme
It calls to me
It calls on and on
But tomorrow I will be the person
The world destined me to be
An untuned symphony
Beating away with a monotone rhythm
Because doubt rears its ugly head
Churns a putrid dread
Which I carry to my empty cage of a heart
And I carry it on
And on
For those stuck in the dull safety of routine
