This Is The End

Even now we are so overwhelmed with an overflow of chaos. Chaos in our liberty of living. Happiness is the ghost we always seem to forget, we starve ourselves with the very nature of it. Nothing comes from these hands, not dirt or sweat, but only blood. These dangers in our minds, are poisoned by our self-esteem. All these answers are spoken in tongues, surrounded like an army in a burning lake of fire. Our stress and fears, scream at us at night. We cannot rest, we cannot rest our heavy hearts. All this misery comes like death with a smile. We find ourselves buried in an open grave. No rest.

 

Is this what the future of humanity has come to? Have we forgotten all about our history? The truth and example we have received from living, is only death? Why do we cry for death? Why is death so saddening?

 

'Aren't the ones who are lost in this world,

who are depressed and unhappy,

who are unforgiving,

who fear,

who struggle to survive everyday,

who starve themselves of love,

who love only to lust again.'

 

Shouldn't we be saddened by them?

 Those who wear masks everyday, because they don't believe in pure beauty.

Isn't that something worth crying for? Have we forgotten all about our

"TRUE SELVES?"

 

We fear ourselves each and everyday.

We are the ones, who animals are afraid of.

We are the ones, who are afraid to go out at night.

We are the hate we create, instead of love.

We are the selfish and ignoring ones.

We are the ones we hurt and neglect.

We are the ones we kill.

 

But there is hope, there is faith.

We are our own therapy.

We are born with the likeness of God.

We have the power to create and to destroy.

We do have love.

We are equipped with something much more than this world.

If only we believe to be true in ourselves.

Not just in our minds and our hearts.

But in our souls as well.

We are born with something that can change this world.

 

I have freed myself from these prisons. The final fight to destroy all obstacles in my path. Even as the sun sets, I will not go down with it. Wait for everyday to come, and rise with it's grace. The children under the moon, will not grow cold by the hour. I have bled way too much. And if this isn't the point worth making, then I don't know what is. Because we have not been defeated, if we hold grace by our hands and walk in the path of victory. A final march on, a path of creation, dreams deserving a home. Stop now and love. Create a world to live in. Survive and die, live to be free. Forget all heavy dead things. Walk, all hands in hand, breathe that fresh air, live on and never love alone.