We all claim to be the master of our own universe, yet fold under pressure of this small world.
When we are forgotten and taken out of the spotlight, we are crushed by solitude.
What happened to having dignity and self esteem and knowing what you are valued?
In the mitts of all the opinions of people have we lost the ability to think originally, leaving our creative building weights uncurled?
What is to become of the few that will think for themselves and object to the teachings of falsehood?
The few will be frowned upon and made out to be the saysers of lies.
And the few will be tortured and taken to the breaking point, where falsehood thrives.
Is this what is to become of thinking and all that is good?
Will we black out the sun and complain about it's shine?
And will we wander the night, lurking for purpose in the dark?
Wandering though the alleys filled with with sharks and persuasive dogs with loud barks,
Is this where we will learn who you are and what destiny is mine?
Without wonder and curiosity, are we better than the wild beasts?
Has our curiosity run dry and conformed to the mind of the collective opinion?
Has the mobs opinion grown like a conquering kingdom and set up it's dominion?
Are all our thoughts and actions infected by their beliefs down to the very least?
If so, I refuse to take part but would rather be one of the few in search for proof.
Though tortured and despised, they are the philosophers of our time.
Their convictions will be their salvation at the end when all clocks are stopped mid-chime.
For they thought for themselves and did not settle for the mobs lies. They will surely find out what has been taken from us, truth.