I hate everything that the world's become
Whizz, flash, bang, and nobody's interested.
Bore me with banter, **** me with complaints,
Trap me in timelines, and wrap me in restraints.
Nobody ponders anymore, when it's done for them.
Nobody wonders anymore where things come from.
Accept what you expect, and leave,
Respect what you detest, and believe.
Why must it be that what's in front of you is more real than what is far away?
Emotions have no motions,
Opinions cause commotions,
Just wake up, follow the line, and end up where you think you should be.
But….
On the off chance you feel a askewed,
that the true you hold dear has been yet to be trued,
On the hope that there might be some more,
On the whim that we're not keeping score,
Who's to say what is true and what is false?
Is a collective answer automatically right?
But what about what lies out of sight?
The objects hidden far from light,
That make us believe we're not in the right?
When deep enough down, you'll find the truth,
That that is the truth, no need of the proof.
You'll realize that from dusk until dawn,
the world is written on the life that you've drawn.
The picture you make is as true as it gets
And the past is ghost that swallows regrets
And Your body is an empty shell of scars,
That decomposes and returns to the stars.
But you are different,
You are unique,
You give the blind sight,
And the mute, you let speak.
You are anything but an empty well of wishes you promised to fulfill,
A pit, a grave, an overflowing landfill.
You are a consciousness,
and to that you are different,
and to that you are unique.
If you relax and let it flow through you,
Let it pass as if they all knew you,
You'll feel the oneness,
and not the numbness,
And you'll understand that there is no death, no fear of death
there's no hope, no pain of one's last breath.
We've always been one thing, one person, one entity, one consciousness.
Judgement was created by those who too harshly judge themselves.
Love, it seems was too easy to ignore,
When love's the answer we've been looking for.
why keep it to ourselves,
A mind of twisted hells?
why boast of our prophets,
of golden rain droplets,
why boast of those who we hold most dear?
Let them consume us with fear?
Eat our soft skin with their yellow teeth,
rip our muscles from bone,
and tear into the white frame to find our marrow peaceful with no barriers to protect it.
We become them until they are us,
Our oxygen turns their gleam to rust,
We envelope and become, the pulsating light,
that pushes through all on a sightless flight.
Our being dragged along, leaving behind just our shell,
Through time and space, not heaven and hell.
Each turn is a question, each pause is a worry,
Our reception is fine, but the picture is blurry.
Each hole that we've filled is with another hole's dirt,
The line in the sand has been redistricted,
"Everything left loose has been restricted,"
said the **** to the *****,
"When it all falls away, let's watch them squirm."
And it all takes shape, in some other form,
Rough, flat, and salted, soft yet firm.
The earth will allow you to sink into it forever,
Until you become a pool of dirt and minerals,
And realize that light and darkness are the same,
Be it a shadow, be it a flame.
When instead of a part, you feel as a whole,
You'll finally know that you're out of control.
