Epiphany.

I tried religion

But my rules were shattered under temptation

So I tried to be happy

But my temperament boiled my compassion

So I tried to love

But love isn't real

So I tried to be real

But reality is a farfetched nightmare

So I tried to dream

But my dreams were tasteless and blank

So I just tried to be a good person

But a good person has their flaws

So I tried to be flawless

But my flaws were an unfathomable fissure…

A fissure

In the stained crust of a dying biography

The biography of my life

This life

It's just a spoken word

In the hall of a thousand mouths

Eternal conversation

Our word is not heard

Not by the people we know

The people we once loved

Not even by ourselves

Because we're caught up in our own imagination

An image of our own happiness

And we won’t listen to ourselves

Our true self

Buried under the soil of our corruption

Telling us to shut the fuck up

Cover our ears

And run

Run as fast as you fucking can

Because our minds are potent and misleading

But our voice is true

And you don't need ears, to listen to you

So get off your ass

Forget your simple life and red carpets

And do something

Do something that will at least make a minuscule dent

In the history, of our future

Not the awards, the pictures, the publicity in general

It's an achievement that lasts forever

And you can stand up in pride

And say "fuck you"

To all the people who once looked down on you

‘Cause you can try and try to be something that isn’t you

But the harder you try the stronger the force

The force of the gravitational pull which is you

Yourself

Your personality

Because it does not want to change

And when you finally hit rock bottom once again

You’ll feel used and broken

Like a torn apart rag doll no longer need by its owner

That is what society will do to you, if you follow their rules

Their laws

Their scriptures

Every fucking thing they tell you to do

They’ll milk you of all your potential

And leave you for the butcher

Don’t be that person now

Be yourself

‘Cause we can be something real

We just have to reach out, grab it by the balls

And say

"This is my fucking life, and I can do whatever the hell I want"

We shouldn't listen to what they want us to hear

See what they want us to see

Because they're spoon feeding us fake motives

And unachievable goals

So take my hand

And escape through the back lot of a broken contemporary society

Where our visions are subliminised

And come with me

To be whatever you’re supposed to be

Because life here is empty

And we need more than change

Change is just a word
It's fiction;

We need the truth.

I wrote this some time ago, when times were kind of messed up, and the situation I was in was gradually changing me as a person. It isn't meant to be sang over a beat or read out to an audience incapable of understanding that poetry isn't all rhymes, love, happiness, and a radio-friendly pop corrupted bullshit song you hear today. The sort of people who can't fathom the truth, so they wont hear me or you, if you share the same views. It's meant to be heard. Whether it be through speech or inside your head. Hear it. Reality is a blunt knife, that'll eventually push its way into your gut. Slow and painful. Reality is the 12 year old girl with a slit wrist. It's loneliness and death.

I should start writing again.

Peace.

Elijah