Really a spoken word poem that I felt to share
Do I look at the world with objectivity, when all I see is hate?
Do I try and fight off all these feelings when nothing I do stops, its too late.
I gather all my precocious examinations of life to its fullest, to my fullest only to find myself surrounded by nothing but my own lip syncing parody in postmodern shambles
I gather, I question, I materialize my possessions, yet I still feel rather un...sentimental when I look into the mirror and see myself as an idealistic five year old child
Nostalgia runs deep, it dampens the pain of growing up it shares its secrets of lovers lost, most importantly it gives us a basis of picking up where we left off
Why must everything be gray when I feel so vibrant?
Must I try and fight it?
Why am I so dyslexic when trying to find my way through this Nexus, what must I become to be so dejected, why am I so internally infected?
Why do I feel so infinitely rejected?
Society has given up on me what do I do now? Do I do as I please? What makes me relocate my dreams, what locomotion carries away my dreams? Why do they have do be nothing more then dreams?
The world may have given up on me but I have not it, maybe someday I shall fuel a thousand furnaces, maybe someday I shall lead a generation, maybe someday I shall find my voice, maybe some day I shall live to my fullest attention, maybe someday I shall reach my ascension
But today I have to walk these empty streets, reaching out to the imaginations that have been built in my mind,
looking for all the things that had once made me happy and now have become hard to find,
sitting about waiting to find the time,
to become a man