To stand, or not to stand: that is the question:
Whether 'tis expected in society to become
the mundane and unoriginal beings of past beings;
Or to dance and frolic in a life of chill,
And live happy.
To withstand; to resist
The ebb and flow of men life you,
The sea of beats and rushing water.
Trees of honesty that vibes with the course of the wind.
To chill; to party;
To rush: to even love, and open yourself for the pain, the trouble
For in chill, and social connection we feel,
Hurt. When we’re crying from the jolt of love;
We should have stand; should have
Resisted the quest
Of happiness, movement, life;
The wired fence of a minefield dream.
In the sake of honesty, to become a pencil pusher?
To despise the wretches of the idea itself.
To not know. To want to know. To finally know.
A friend’s forceful farce face,
A languished lie of love,
In the sake of honesty?
The thumpa-thumpa of lights and sound never lie.
Never hurts.
The realization tomorrow does.
The dawn of jazz,
And you’re peers frowns antipathy.
The nostalgia of the past,
And the fear of the future.
A world of lost, strife against strife,
Unnatural pain we all have to suffer.
Products of this dystopian society
Isn’t that the natural end anyway?
Social upbringings taint us all,
Immobile to anything bigger than ourselves.
-Kacy
