The echo chamber of our mind where the voices from the past only live on in our thoughts. As if it were music, the aching music of rhythmic reflection, that song that was once so beautiful can never be, again.
The moments of metamorphosis within the mind, hoping for a new. A new perception, a single thought that could change it all.
When will I awake from the dream?
With thoughts that words cannot express. One would hope to muster a grey stone in the place of an unseen crystal that tells all.
I think we've been mistaken of what life is.
To normalize such sickness and sedation.
To glorify death.
Our modern teachers are only distractions from the true and great beyond. The numbers, human constructs, Gods, money, importance of material wealth, it's all a lie. We've all been tricked, and to make fools of us all, even our greatest mentors that say they know the way, haven't the slightest idea of the truth, but best know that they will profit off of you. The idolization of idiots only makes even bigger idiots of ourselves. While they build their castles, and we're led astray. The ant mill that the human existence has become while in search of happiness, is the true sickness of this world.
Happiness cannot be bought, it cannot be seen, it's inside, in the deepest parts of infinity. &, to even give it a name, "happiness", a mockery, happiness isn't real; but, what is real, is this feeling.
This feeling of being alive.
YOU ARE READING
Release
PoetryThis is a collection of my writing from the past 7 years. Before I started to write, I was a very lost individual, as are most teens, but I was lost in darkness. I was too afraid to move anywhere at all. I hid in the dark, debilitated by my own anxi...
