I need poetry right now, not this, reality beyond reason
We shovel the shit, waste the resources, despite the season
What is life without creative purpose?
The equivalent of dull in the excess
A factual interpretation of a story already told
Nothing left to the imagination, reality has too tight of a hold
What are we without dreams of something better?
We don’t get the point but we can remember the script letter for letter
Where is the passion behind all those blank stares?
We get conflict yet we lack the knowledge to truly care
It doesn’t seem right, it doesn’t seem fair
That’s life though, we get what we get and that’s the fare
You can’t create life without suffering; passion is sparked by pain
Yet so many waste this spark, working in vain
Trying to please those above them
Is that the point, to serve another human to reach heaven?
It’s a twisted climb to “purity”
The logic can be explained but we don’t truly see