Words etched in my memory
Set free amidst a cloud of feel-good vibe
That was the plan all along
to cast off the chains
ignore the blades
(they've kissed your skin enough)
and feel good
My psych textbook attributes any and all good feelings
To our need as people to belong to something
But we hold ourselves on too high a platter
And forget that there is more out there than ourselves
To belong is not necessarily to other people
To belong is to an idea
To belong is to a word
To belong is to your world
To belong is to the roads less traveled
To belong is to the path worn down
To belong is to the bustling city
To belong is to the smallest town
We are no different, no different at all from
The beings we look down upon and slaughter at whim
A greater purpose is needed.
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 4:36 PM UTC
Words etched in my memory
Set free amidst a cloud of feel-good vibe
That was the plan all along
to cast off the chains
ignore the blades
(they've kissed your skin enough)
and feel good
My psych textbook attributes any and all good feelings
To our need as people to belong to something
But we hold ourselves on too high a platter
And forget that there is more out there than ourselves
To belong is not necessarily to other people
To belong is to an idea
To belong is to a word
To belong is to your world
To belong is to the roads less traveled
To belong is to the path worn down
To belong is to the bustling city
To belong is to the smallest town
We are no different, no different at all from
The beings we look down upon and slaughter at whim
A greater purpose is needed.
Sam Dickinson 2011
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