Become more, for what? For who?
Why does it matter anymore?
Defining traits,
Surface level, it’s all they want anyways
So why even bother to face the pain
Introspective
And reflective
Admired only by myself
Not even in their language,
Mesmerized and entertained,
chasing always their counterfeited dreams, come to think of them as fiends
True gold is not recognizable by their shallow eyes
They fall for a quicker, shinier version, enlaced and filled with lies
“Cool,” their defining trait
Depth, care little if you portray
Theyd prefer the certain ease and masking of reality
Or perhaps they’re not even conscious of it, perpetually surrounded, lacking any reflection internally
See in others a reflected mirror image of themselves, providing a generic purpose, so life it seems has simplicity
Simplicity is a lie
Any man who believes he possesses it is merely in an altered state of mind
Ignorance will only carry you so far
Until time will make you see
Life is so complex, so we drown it out and reduce it down, begging to question what is REALity?
