The illusion of perfect symmetry,

holds us from grabbing our key.

Fabricated poise and sophisticated balance,

shakes us to our decrepit core.

Surreal intellect and courage so strong

scatters our psychotic minds.

Gracefully they sketch their image

and sear it into our brains.

We are subjects to a wild art, 

that we've named Society. 

This poem is about: 
My country
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741