Chaos

Sorrowful and sadly sailing through a sea of my own despair, melancholy misery makes me miserable beyond repair. On display, caged for the world's unkind scrutiny, all the world is a stage, its actors changing as I challenge its hypocrisy. Like a sideshow freak, exiled from a life of being weak, I was the brightest and most vibrant bird of paradise in life's bountiful boutique. Don't speak, listen with your heart and with your eyes, to the tremors terrorizing this territory and tearing it apart. The show starts, as I am caught in the sky's rapturous downpour, stinging my heart, as the rain forces me to wait in vain. I have been castrated, an emasculated man that is now a mouse, you realize that this house was built on lies as you douse me in gasoline. No longer thirteen, I must fend for myself in a world illuminated by secrecy. Everywhere I look, hope burns discerning concern that is never returned, like the impoverished that plead to be fed but are misled by corruption that gnaws at their wallets and feeds on their souls. We live in a world where a man would sell his mother to be compensated with her weight in gold. The story unfolds, as futures flicker faintly as whole families only feel remorse. Addicts anticipate assistance but instead they grab the reigns and ride the white horse. What was once plentiful, bringing pleasure to the masses has since been meandered, disparaged, distinct between the classes. The rich earn more, as their stocks continue to rise, as forest fires burn, fogging up the night's sky. Blurry and unclear, I can only see in blacks and grays, running for cover as I cry because the only world I have known is now ablaze. Penniless peasants pray for a day to come, where they no longer have to harvest their crops that prick their fingers, forced like Hansel and Gretel to rely on mere breadcrumbs. Refused entry into the kingdom of Heaven until we become as gentle as children and as innocent as lambs. Always twenty one grams heavier in our stony hearts, that yearn to depart, smartly refusing to feel pain's endless campaign. Sanity becomes obscure, as we fall further from grace; embrace, repent before our lives are spent, working for the man that is solely motivated by monetary gain. Damaged disdain drearily dishes out dread into our brains, down the drain we go, as we are flushed from this rotten place. Replaced by inhabitants that will be kind and not ungrateful, filling the Earth's cup with love and not all that is distasteful. War waging warriors were never the way it was intended to be, we murdered mother nature, tore her heart out of her chest. Mayans predicted this, yet we could barely resist using our fists in the attempt to disprove that pacifism could have resulted in ignorant bliss. We flooded the world, and have created a watery grave that can no longer sustain life. I can see through to the end of my tunnel, and the light therein will surely free me from my abundant strife.