Journal

Insomniac's Journal

Words birthed in the internal

His subconscious' dunk-tank

These words remained unranked

Articulate the contemplations

Of these waking frustrations

Pen in hand

Sleep be damned

These are the greatest thoughts in the land

But why do they come at 4 in the morning

Must write them down

And heed the warning

His memory won't serve him as well when he wakes

If only he knew what was at stake

Words, Words, and more still left to come

Cannot stop till he sees the sun

Sunken eyes

Blood shot red

Sleep finally comes to the walking dead

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Spectator

Cut me in the throat
Let the words spill out
They've got my tongue
You won't hear me shout

Free will is a joke
To be thrown in your face
Choices and options
This illusion's disgrace

Chained and caged
In my own freedom
This appearance of independence
Fools no one
Propagated by the masses
That are ruled by the few
A lie masquerading as the one sole truth

We sit and we watch
We stare and we sigh
And let ourselves be taken in by this lie
But I do not anger
Or quicken to fear
I weep for the world
With one soulful tear

This captive freeman
Will watch the world burn
Watch it break down because no one could learn
That this lie wasn't truth
But fabrication of man
An unstable plague
That ravaged the land

So I shall sit here and wait
In my restraints and my chains
And watch the world
As it struggles and pains

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