The Storm

Mon, 12/05/2016 - 09:04 -- Tuckerr

It is my stern belief that
We should leave
Every sloppy scrap of greed
To the hounds, let them bleed
This isn't the life I promised to lead
Waging wars and scraping knees
Simply so that I can please
The people that won't even see me Or you
In roughly 2
years from now
It smells so foul
The scent of conformity
We're way too pretty
To be in this city
Filled with thugs and hipsters
Weilding guns and hedge clippers
In the form of verbs and nouns
We're all dizzy little clowns
Stomping upon the surface
Hoping people don't notice
That it's all a hoax
All these pinches and pokes
Are a guise
All you guys
And me
Pretending to be
Titanium soldiers
Invincible boulders
When we are just foggy mirrors
Wishing we could see clearer
That we have never been weaker
Don't act like you're unbreakable
Just because strength is fakeable
Put away your voodoo doll
And pull your hidden soul out to thaw
Buckle your helmet and knee pads
Layer on all your rags
And smile in the face of the storm
Be fearful to avoid the urge to conform


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