Resurrection

OCCUPIED

𝓂.𝐎.έ.

I’ma do my own thing.
Of course I am.
It’s my life,
Not your command.
Went online to find some inspiration 
That was my first mistake 
just a bunch of Information,
No life. Second mistake, asking
What they wanna hear,
No body there, nobody care.

Er’rybody soundin so profound;
Or so they write.
Y’all got the real answer, l hear
But I’m drowning in the verbosity
I just be like, 
“Fuck is this?”
Who’s living, not just recording life?

Strange world, when profanity
Read more like poetry
And poets write more about
Ambiguous profundity.

Let me tell you
Why this changes everything
It doesn’t. 
It just sounds like you have something
Important to say.
Real art and writing demonstrate, 
They don’t just state. 

How many of us just trying to fill space
Fearing if we stop speaking, stop writing,
Leave any room at all, we’ll lose our place,  deflate like a hot air balloon cutting off its flame.Too many. Ain’t even spewing hot air,
Just floating far away, freezing  now here.

Can’t open
Eyes so heavy.
See everything
Everything except for you

I got nothing to say?
Really? Can’t find my voice
I want to scream
Still so much rage.
Nobody listening, not really
Anyway, just another stranger
You can’t know 
But fall in love with 
Every time you press play

Everybody want to feel
Less alone, more real,
Worthy, witnessed, loved 
Held.

Communism

ThinkCommon

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