the messed up norm

We literally live on a floating rock in outer space. We eat, sleep, and breathe sadness. We choke on society and the rude comments of our "equals." Excluding people for being different, we judge cruelly until they make something of themselves. We, then, worship them for being "different" when they're not different anymore because everyone wants to be them. We watch floating gaseous balls and long to chase them; however, we don't have the guts to do it. We all just sit around, wallowing in anger and sadness while there are galaxies sitting explored- galaxies being your mind, along with the beautifully unique minds of others. We're the generation that's going to cause the world to go to hell. We're too busy worshipping self-hatred and hatred for others to prove people wrong; we need to show we are real. The world is terrifying because we're the human race; however, it feels as if none of us are human. We’re all robots stuck behind phone screens and laptops to notice what's really out there. Life is out there. There's people that think they're living, while they're just hating. There are people, like me, that want to live, but are too afraid to while being afraid of the box they're trapped in. There are people that are actually living. They're making themselves happy and people around them happy, but no one even notices anymore because that's not the norm. The norm is being messed up. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe we, as human beings, are all a little too messed up.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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