You stand by and watch as I crumble, turning your nose to the air as if I were something beneath you. Well what if I goddamn was, about six feet or so? Would these words still ring in hollow self absorbed ears? I’m hocking legitimacy in a world that seeks perfection at the end of a blade. What kind of a goddamn fool am I?
The rain pelts forbidden music across my naked skin. My eyes are closed to the world and my mind is ages away. I exist somewhere protected from your petty judgements, based on a lie you force feed your children with a side order of guilt. Because you took the love away from the Lord and turned him into a cult of personality. You spend your days tearing through other people’s dirty laundry because you can’t stand the sight of the shit and piss stains upon your own…. and I’m the villain?
I once thought I would change this world, but now I just want to see it burn. Who am I to stand up against this truth you’ve ground into my head? I’m a waif, a peasant, an undereducated derelict who has nothing to offer anyone. I’ve got a vault full of broken metaphors and hidden riddles, that no one wants to hear… and for goddamn sure no one wants to buy. Why then, you may ask, do my thumbs frantically pace their way over this miniature keyboard? I don’t know. They all said the world was what you make of it, as they kept piling bricks into the wall that separates us from our creator. They offered the pursuit but never the happiness because they knew, in their very hearts, as they wrote the words, that they themselves had yet to goddamn find it.