by Callum B. Downes
This just struck me this morning. Thought provoking stuff, dude.
All the time I feel the air.
Breezing by, everywhere.
Can it feel me? Does it notice me?
Does anyone, anywhere really care to see?
Everywhere I go, there’s no feeling of space.
Free from the toxins that impale this place.
Gone are the times of solitude and innocence.
Here is the now, the age of dissonance.
I walk among the reckless and the recluse.
Just those who are already stuck in the noose.
Kindly floating by, observing society.
Listening to the lack of sincere propriety.
Missing their voice, which got caught in the wind.
Nothing’s right, we’re trying too hard to blend.
Only to discover it’s us who are the plague- blurring among the faces, all too vague.
People who fall to greed and lust,
Quiver so slightly in the air like dust.
Rising through the storm are the few.
Sickness has settled on us all like dew.
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