Spiritually, I find myself dangling on a thread, gnawing my way out through the skins and teeth of other humans. I cannot see myself, but I see Him, or Her, or Anyone Else who stays in my mind and rots with me, who burns with the little lick of fire that is dancing around people's eyes, who sees through their minds off pointy ears and nosy noses. The ones whose words are charms, the works of art where they linger through my mind like glistening lines of silver.
I wish I was like you. Born and raised like rajahs, whose hands are littered with slippery gold and silver coins. The ones who compares and be compared, the ones that are always fighting but never losing and the ones that kill, but do not leave drops of blood lying around like warriors of old.
I, the man of myself, wish that I could have done something worthy to be mentioned in my life, not just wandering and searching for inner peace and resolve. Weak as I am, I am strong in words, but words do not mean anything when life is controlled by those with green papers and strong ties that are connected by bridges of contracts and inner greed. I do not control my life, and my body is but a mere tool to a Man's scheme.
Tired. Tired. Tired. I am tired. We are all born dead naturally, but We still strive to survive, to live in a world full of fallacies and forced contemplation. What are decisions when you already made one? What is love when love is not there for you when you are hungry? What is power and fame when both share the same parents of green?
Done. Done. I am done. Humans? Souls? Bodies? I.
Am done.
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As music goes in these past few years, this is a gem.
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