worldchanger
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Take a look at the street; beyond all decorated walls of freedoms and liberties.
Remove one coat of brittle paint; you’ll see what’s underneath.
Fingers trapped in lapping gunge.
Don’t touch, pretend.
Being trapped inside a small cage
Not being able to give in an opionon
But be slaved to listen to the long unbarebly whispers
I hear, but do not speak
Because when I do
They feel me as a burden
It’s all up to me.
It has always been up to me, to become anything,
But I want to flee like a banshee to the Dead Sea
To step away from my life and not have answer the question:
“What do you want to be?”
