This was not art, but a poem I wrote just last night. Recently I've been reflecting on the world I live in (more specifically the USA), and it's just depressing, to say the least. My generation has got it ROUGH, I know we can all agree. Here's the poem :)
"I am." By NephaliMations
"Hello. My name is fill in the blank.
Today I will tell you how I ranked
Myself up in comparison to the world.
How awful a mind has come to be
In unison with the world.
My name is yours to find, and yours to keep.
The identity is one that you cannot find in your sleep,
In your bed, in a song, but only your own head.
To keep myself calm, I must lie there
Being chained to the doubts and terrors
That come with inseparable anxiety.
I can only take a breath and tell myself,
"It will be okay."
But frankly, if we're being honest
That's pretty hard.
To tell yourself to stop lying to your soul
There, alone in the dark.
A light at the end of the tunnel is blocked by a blindfold
That I wrap around my eyes.
The blindfold I tied, with my wrists handcuffed
and trained by my own lies.
As my wrists are handcuffed, my mind is halted.
I stare into the barren nothing.
Consumed into darkness, I shriek for help.
But who can you grab once you're by yourself?
Isolation drove us mad, our attention driven into phones.
Indulging ourselves in metamorphose as we boast, and boast, and boast.
Locked up for three hours? Well, why don't you try a box for three months?
Meanwhile, those up the ladder can kick down all the runts.
I was never mad, nor angry or scared.
But after all of this, I am beginning to see the heir
Of tyranny and hate, being self-love and disgust
Towards others without regard
For empathy or compassion or respect for a change.
Instead we fuel ourselves with recycled rage
On algorithms and shares.
Oh, there's plenty more.
The inter-webs are something you should explore
So you can see all problems; overwhelming.
All at once.
No opinion on a topic? You must be a dunce.
Can't agree to disagree? Then you'll see
All the violence, terror, and divorced employees—
Hell, all of it makes for a horrific symphony of
Trauma and pain, spat out once more
So the media companies have green to adore.
I'm not one to judge or make assumptions,
But the ones in charge must be up to something.
If the mental health crisis is clawing through the floor,
Yet we can't figure out why it isn't through the door
Of the government so they can share knowledge of why I'm so sad.
Instead, they keep the money in a box that they'll always, always have.
Socialism may be flawed, but capitalism is too.
Money always has something to do
With why we can't just live out normal lives,
But instead we grab happy-pills until we run dry
Of that small green paper.
And those measly copper plates.
Frankly, as of late those tiny shiny objects that
You use to buy some bread,
Have not had the same worth they always did.
Homelessness, debt, and tax-rates explode,
Something that was once barely known
Is now grown out of proportion.
At least that's what it seems.
Are these really that common, like STDs?
Now finally the thing I must get off my chest,
Is also something that I must confess.
I know I'm a mystery, but take a chance.
What I'll tell you is that I know who I am.
After all these years, tainted by distrust
And unfaithfulness, and tears, and all inbetween.
Listen. You'll know what I mean.
I can be straight, I can be gay, I can be considered whatever they say.
I can be a she, I can be a he, I can be a their, them, they.
I can be happy, I can be cruel, I can be all inbetween,
But "I can be" doesn't mean that it is me.
I am American, I am Canadian, I am from way back way.
I am a loving, charismatic human that will be cherished for days.
I am something that cannot be replaced, yet I am repressed.
These are the things I must get off my chest.
I will love you whether you believe in gods, or none at all.
I will love you whether you're black, white, or even a doll.
I will love you even when things get hard,
Because let's be honest, we all deserve a twenty-dollar gift card.
Nowadays, it is hard to fit in
by being the good person that was told not to sin.
By applying a label, I shove myself in a box
Where I am handcuffed
With a blindfold
With no key for the lock.
The need for perfection is overwhelmingly great,
So much that we hate on those who struggle,
to pop their own bubble and break out of their box.
I am none of the above, but simply confused.
Social media is something we will never lose,
Therefore we can try our best to do what we can
To make sure we all turn out "fine" in the end.
I am worthy of who and what I am,
I am proud to be the someone that I am.
The labels above label me as confused.
Who needs them though when all you have to be is you.
Thank you for sticking around until the end,
I apologize for offense, hope we shall make amends.
I hope this poem was something I could do.
If you are still wondering who I am,
The answer is you."
By the way I'm honestly not expecting anything, if you have nothing to say or don't know what to say, there is no need to do so XD! it's my personal thoughts and feelings, and I know some people have no clue how to react. No pressure at all for yall :]
