The Hostage

That’s what they said I would be,
In bondage,
By the powers that be,
Living inside,
A head; where the thoughts leak,
Come right inside,

Let me show you fresh meat,

Its daunting,
The thought of thinking at all,
A fleck of doubt oh so small,

Distinguishing linguistic hate,
Manipulate or set me straight,
My head grows weary from the chase,
So delicate,
So cold,

An appetite for whats in sight,
Has led me through,
Path found my life,

As gravity pulls left and right,
The vision’s horror froze,

Incompetent a human,
The ego has grown
The wheel of whats real,
Moving past right and wrong,

Adjacent patient,
And mired in statements,
The passions conflicts with demeanor so vacant,

Maybe if you,
All could see through,
My eyes but once,
Then you would too,
Feel the scorn,
Forever more,
My cynical rhythm

My underscore

The thing I hate the most,
Being within the grey,
Is that all the eyes that criticize,
Are the reason we’re insane,
In flames we’re just frozen
Pushed to a point of melt
While the whole time,
The earth keeps spinning round

Reviewed by the stew,
Of group social suggestion,
The stench became quite tempting,
But as the seconds count down,
The words all drown out,
Why should I care,
It isn’t really here,
Rules and regulations made to keep the mind in fear,

While we all sit by the sidelines,
To watch a jesters court of lies,
A round of applause,
For the flavour of course,
I don’t see why they’d lie

Be your own god or forever a hostage


2 thoughts on “The Hostage

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