the **** we doing?
I am frustrated, angry,
this wasn't how I planned it,
I was supposed to change the world,
saw all the unlogical behaviour,
the problems,
only to become one?
I turned into a poet, a writer,
to describe, change ideas of the future,
now I read back and see,
all I described was,
another beautiful night,
a cruelsome heartache,
how juniper curves, and song it sings,
have I fallen into a category,
of what I, used to loathe,
the tales are magnificient,
yet, do they tell a story,
of better tomorrow, for you, for me,
to go about?
I must search, the shadow of my roots,
escape the cage, of settled protagonist,
my heroes, past truthsayers,
look down on me now,
I will rise once again,
for liberalism!
