Fix me.

Living

I speak this poetry because it demands to be heard.
Because each origami felt is made from a lyrical word.
With every sentence you hear hits you like a gun shot and every relatable thing reminds you of your ways.
Where every flower just grew up to decay.
Where we have to wire our selves into commission.
We aren't the only ones who grew up like this.
We aren't the only ones who have seen the dark in the world; even when we have learned to ignite fire at the point of finger tips.
We aren't the only ones ;who've been taken to late night horror trips.
Where the transportation we flew in; was set in our dreams,
Where we woke up screaming, getting told it's not what it seems.
When I say I can't handle, it why can't you understand.
That I'm supposed to know how to live like it's the back of my hand.
But we're boxed up, with registry form of life in my Mind.
Holding on till the day that my life would be kind.
We were told that beauty and knowledge comes growing up with age,
So we couldn't wait to grow up,
But then it turned into a faze.
A faze of lies and a face of destruction.
Learned that What we says dies, yet we were given instructions;
When will we live, we have to finish our finding.
Yet these ties to the world couldn't be more unbinding.
Now I'm just waiting till the day death and I have shook hands and met.
But I'm still left thinking how come since my whole plan was living.
Then Why have I still not lived yet.