I am addicted to peace, but it always seems to fall away from me.
Down in the depths that ring hollow, the material never seems real.
Something about a feeling, resonates on the only currency I care to perceive.
Like falling upwards, and watching the ground recede beneath.
These gridded blocks like bars, that keep me from being free.
Discarding dog tags, and gnawing through the leash,
That keep me tethered, to the hands controlling my belief.
All these passing smiles wreak of resignation.
Fabricated happiness, sows the seeds, of roots that clasp your feet;
Ensuring, you never leave the places,
That you never chose to be.
