Trapped in the ChrysalisMature

There's always footsteps upstairs

Or music, or voiceovers;

Always in the wrong places.

Those in control have done a good job:

Thoughtlessness is entertaining.

Seeing it as it is, has become such a bore.

Those who desire to keep moving have it easy.

It is those who want the world to stop and look around...

Good luck to them.

Why be interested in how the future is shaped?

The shape of terror and loss?

I'd rather run and hide.

Our links as human beings rapidly diminish

And the loss never came with a receipt.

The only thing we can look onward to,

Is more of it.

Not enough people will notice.

Even less will care.

Her sewing machine rasps at my thought process,

As does everything else I saw today.

Creativity is born through self-control and the ability to remove yourself from the expecting many.

Self-control disappeared when we all started getting scared.

Those fuckers did a good job on us.

Yes, we can still make, manufacture and think we mean it,

But who's left to make a difference?

The bands all sound the same,

The movies all look the same,

People all feel the same.

People all expect the same.

Monotony.

But, the biggest joke...

Everyone still thinks that they're doing it differently.

That's how they won.

Think about it.

YOU feel individual,

But look around.

How many people think, speak, dress and put themselves across exactly as you do?

YOU may shrug,

But trust me.

There's more than you could ever comprehend.

You're just another sucker.

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed