My voice
I don't know if I'm not articulating well or if my level of diction is not matching up with my mental narrative because whatever comes out of my mouth is met with such attrition that I feel the need to recoil while suppressing my thoughts. It's not that my thoughts display such ingenuity or speak of things out of this world, it's just that I'm thinking deeply of my own person in the context of this giant world and letting my word relay my feelings honestly. However, others, people around me fight for things indignantly; they cop a feel of the supposed world around them and regurgitate the rhetoric of the outside voices around them and stand strong on their fake accord. I know why I feel so demoralized. I am a lone voice in an ever-expanding homogenized world. A world with no barriers to separate ideas. A world where integration is key in killing the voice of the man. No more person only the people. No more belief only the consensus.
People looked at me if I was the devil. That my mental stability was in question. Could I be so wrong? Could I be so off that my chemical state of mind is in a horrible place? I wish I could ask you how I am supposed to think, because when I think on my own, when I form my opinion on my experiences comprised with my vantage point of this world in complete despair, I can only say what I mean.
They looked at me like I was the inhumane one. Like all their opinions and choices were good or at their choices acquiesced a common good. Their inability not to stop buying their own happiness or resorting to evaluating their existence versus that of anothers; and you people have the control over the realms of thought because you people are the indignant masses. You with your hidden face with makeup adorning your guilt driven life, you bitch, you look at me like I'm the one that is inhumane. You supposedly fought for something that resonates as a pin prick to the scope of the dilemma of human existence. And you come at me as the deity of truth. I spoke the most heartfelt I could, and my opinion was seen as if detrimental to the bearing of equilibrium.
What happened to a man's voice.
Be Relentless,
Peace
Remoy
People looked at me if I was the devil. That my mental stability was in question. Could I be so wrong? Could I be so off that my chemical state of mind is in a horrible place? I wish I could ask you how I am supposed to think, because when I think on my own, when I form my opinion on my experiences comprised with my vantage point of this world in complete despair, I can only say what I mean.
They looked at me like I was the inhumane one. Like all their opinions and choices were good or at their choices acquiesced a common good. Their inability not to stop buying their own happiness or resorting to evaluating their existence versus that of anothers; and you people have the control over the realms of thought because you people are the indignant masses. You with your hidden face with makeup adorning your guilt driven life, you bitch, you look at me like I'm the one that is inhumane. You supposedly fought for something that resonates as a pin prick to the scope of the dilemma of human existence. And you come at me as the deity of truth. I spoke the most heartfelt I could, and my opinion was seen as if detrimental to the bearing of equilibrium.
What happened to a man's voice.
Be Relentless,
Peace
Remoy