There is no a destination in which a greater truth
Can be found.
The universe seems too complacent with the idea
Of being aesthetically sound.
Behind every corner, and beyond every heart
Are questions of wrong and right.
Yet still the simple pursuit of happiness
remains intrinsically contrite.
True complexity of happenings, great and small
Is a man’s own fabrication.
Societal norms rise and collapse every day
Within each new generation.
An advanced conflict lives in the spawn of doubt
And apprehension.
Curiosity and unawareness triggers deceit and mistrust
Due to an immoral suspicion.
It is our own life, our own time
We are killing.
It’s not our children, or next generation.
It is ourselves we are tilling.
We are forced to run to some safe haven,
One only temporary.
But this remote idea bolts us in for the ride,
Placing our obituary.
Here lies Tom, cause he did not know any better,
But he did, you see,
We all know better, for it’s not in our society
Do we find reluctancy.
I tell you, live life as one, an individual,
And do not be part of a system.
Be a brilliant colored flower in the bush,
Don’t be the dull and ordinary stem.
Have faith in yourself as one being,
With acknowledgment to king and creator.
Defy what you see on the television screen,
Defy the media manipulator.
Originality is the only way we’ll get out alive.
It’s the only way to stay real.
Originality is the way the world grows,
Not by celebrity ordeals.
Life is about creating what you want to see in the world,
And it doesn’t matter when, where or how.
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