By Arcassin Burnham


Wrong place,  wrong time, two nickels make a dime, but I just don't wanna fail.

Too many heartbreaks plus hardships,  set sail for through fiery hell.

Life is hard,  we all know,  the same scenario,
It's not hard than you portray.

Good things,  good days,  come and go,
Melting away.
Anyway.

Do you see the shame?  That you threw on me , laughing and scheming afflicting the
Meaning of pain,
No respect given in this life will leave you in suspense , making it harder to sustain.

The revolution will be televised,
people flooding the streets, the skies.
All who oppose will be demised,
critisized,
antagonized.
Those who carry on will be prized.
And so the cycle continues, generation after generation.
It’s hard to tell what mutation will come to fruition,
but the fact of the matter is that it’ll be just as superficial as the last.
Nobody wants to be different, do they?

People forget that
                         love rhymes
only carry you so long,
                    along a reparative flow..
            But I venture on the
waves of varied flow..

Do I care if you get ******
                       below my riptide..  
never connecting upon my
                 differential flow of wording.
Drowning  within my varied view of a world
                           that isn't flowers they
fell into my ocean and got dragged into
       oblivion long before you learnt to swim.

The moods of others are fickle,
                      but I'm not a trend,
I'm a tsunami of reality...
That's not constricted to the lullabies of others as
they drown within my words....
                others fade
                   but I'm still here dragging you out...

“One”

There’s no two...
Three...
Four...
And a million numbers more.

It’s just me
In a blank story.

I’m the protagonist,
Antagonist,
and the supporting characters.

I’m the hater,
The lover,
And the troubled.

I’m just another figure,
In another chapter,
Of the same story.

I always wondered what it would be like if,
suddenly,
one of those "famous internet people"
would start liking me,
hitting each and every one of my posts
with one of their virtual emoji reactions,
sharing my words
and my soul
all over their sordid walls,
making me trendy and clickable,
part of the same pretentious content
that they're always displaying.

Will I feel sick
(like I do every time I read what they're sayin' in their trendsetter social media universe)
or will I feel proud?

Will I think that is a terrible waste of good procrastination or will I smile?

Will I roll my eyes,
after looking at their "common garbage"
or will I take a deep smell of the "beautiful bit flower that they seeded in their garden"?

Will I ever find out?
Will I have the will?

People people
                         they go around like pigs
                         showcasing their fancy suits
                         proclamating the biggest trend

Jewelry, then food, then them big fast automobiles

Those are the priorities by order

Getting greedy
Getting fat
Gettin' Gettin' GETTIN'
                                
                                 In a monstruous ball of meat!
                                 With a monstruous will of plastic!
                                 Monstruously stupid!
                                              Monstruous,­
                                              monstruous...

I'm­ gettin' tired
But I'm afraid,
They are just getting started.

I use this fancy colors on my lips
To cover all these cuts
Wishing that they will all vanish
As I carve a smile on my lips

I use different powders
To cover up my flaws
The acnes due to not sleeping
Considering that anxiety pays another visit

I use concealer to conceal the dark circles
The eyes which are hurt from crying
Everyday and everynight nonstop
Asking for sympathy

I use eyeshadows to add color into my life
Different colors as for I am a pretender
Glitters to show that I stand out
Trying to belong in a group

Trying to hide my real identity
But who am I fooling?
It's no other than myself
Someone who cannot accept her flaws

I wish a world of followers
Following freely unlike the borrowers
With a free soul and nothing to lend
Hence, following no trend,
Then no one will fight
For a few choices of light
As everyone and everything
Has millions of light sources to cling
If they open their eyes
And close it at wrong time,
Trends are just created by people alike
To bring things away from life like,
You won't find everything alike your mind
Then why you choose a crap of such kind
Don't follow the trend
Don't make it the end
Follow the light
Which is bright in your mind.