Anger seems to be the only emotion I can get to. Wonder in the symphony of life if I get live in a different key? I wish I had more answers. I wish that I even knew what needed to be solved. I am puzzled by the game of life as I can't seem to find the corners.

Prisons.. Prisons... Prisons everywhere I look I see prisons

lost hours

I lost so many hours wishing I could get an hour back. Back in time where possibilities still made sense as I attempt to make sense of impending frustration. I am frustrated that I can't grow wings and fly to better days as days move by clocks I don't own. So, I am owned by the hands of others as my hand construct monuments to nothing.

Way to Live

Is this the only way to live? You see, the confines of the cage are the problem. I see the cage. Thus, I see the prison that I was born into. I can't be free simply by wishing it anymore than prey can pray to be the predator. Predatory ideas about salvation solve, for some, the depression of the unknown. I am not interested in being saved. I just don't want to be condemned.

Grasp

I can't grasp how finite this is. It is crazy that we will all have an unknown finish line. Is there a long line? Or does the reality of my exit remain closer that it appears? As I peer into the past with regret and relief unaware of the future.

Notion

The notion that shit does not work out! Harsh truths that lead me to work out because body composition is something that I am convinced I can control. Limited controls of the game of life, so life is spent in the vicarious visions of what others do.

Wearefucked

Consciousness can't swim in shallow pools. As pools of simplicity simply choose to ignore the precarious position that humanity sits-in. Sit-ins stall as attention spans can't last the length of a commercial. Commercial consumption is the drink of choice. Multiple choices for liberation seem to be a way of the past as standardized tests become the common core for humanity. "Wearefuc***"

UP

Damn, they did not want to grow up. Up, to get it requires efforts and most make efforts to stay young forever. Forever running away from responsibility. So, who is responsible for a community's broken  pieces and broken people seek to put themselves back to gather with broken pieces. As calls for peace fall on deaf ears; ears drilled with messages of youth lasting forever. Not youthful innocence. Innocence seems lost in the midst of tough stares and bruised ego's.

Illusion

The power of the powerful is an illusion. Conscious eyes have the ability to see reality from a lucid perspective. How do you understand the struggle? Or do you simply struggle to see your part in the revolution that needs to take place?