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Rob Metz Aug 2019
This escape, the illusion within that we are profound,
Bound by desires, entirely suggestive and out of context.
The primal shift, the unquenching thirst for acceptance,
The struggle to find a peace of mind within the melancholy.

This apparent shift, from subtle cues to textbox illiteracy,
Catering to the masses, a massive reaction building.
Spiraling down, these dopamine fueled reactions transiting,
How do we escape this rabbit hole of constructed illegitimacy?

Turn your back to the crowd as hard as it may seem,
On this fueled paradox of mobilized dogma and hypocrisy.
One day you may find likeminds who speak volumes to the soul,
Free yourself from this cage, this existential identity entirely.

Escape the void, that’s created by fault lines in other’s eyes,
This crisis within, fixed with tools crafted by other’s time.
What seems to be worthwhile could be worthless in an instant,
Selective content fueling this machine of uninhibited design.

Like moths to a flame, hovering the fire that could scorch their wings,
These shadows in the sun, seeming bigger but not at all the same.
These irreverent norms guided by fallacies of ignorant beliefs,
The audience remains the same, listen to the point but leave out the tragedy.

— The End —