Without knowing places, my place it seems
Looking for the best, the attention. a scheme
Writing for freedom, rightful, a taste
A taste of satifactury
A taste of bliss
A taste of all the wonderful things I miss
For looking in darkness where it can not be found
Searching for answers
The ones you don't know when they're found
Granulated light, from the bedroom abyss
I wrote this in hopes to remiss
The things about you that I almost see
Guess the open door to this cage gets the best of me
Too tired to see, with eyes wide open
I dropped the key, I closed the shackles
No need for this. Running too much a hassle
Staying put in my cage, so addicted to castles
I willingly stay in this dungeon
Just to remain closer to the stories
That were once told
To me, to us
I've had enough.
I know the story, the only way out
I lay down the screens
Technology, you are the dragon.
Guarding this castle, you keep me in.
A distraction, of many, I see the curse.
I will see you as a tool, to remove this thirst
We are who we are, what will be will be
Appealing to the masses means nothing to me
Along in this journey, out of the castle
The mightiest stance.
Alone in the beacon,
I fulfill these plans
To leave the stories behind
Goodbye, the castle
Sometimes, poems don't seem fitting to have titles. Spiratic, unrestricted, undirected writing forms itself as it goes. And while sure, the poem may have a perfectly fitting title once it has been heard, completed. Though why spoil the escalation ahead of time, with a title that shows the end at the beginning. Telling the reader what it is before the words in the poem even knew, just isn't right to me.
