Still

the stillness in you, Lord, is not the same, the masses conformity just tried to numb the pain, the click of the trigger warned my ears, the follow of suit through the socials fears, running in packs with no difference to see, mimicking each others qualities, for feelings of safety against insecurities, holding back the different qualities you gave us to be, in common is good to a certain degree, but not when its patterns become too extreme, judgement creeps up in these consistant ways, to where their voices are constricted, and hearts lay at bay, fear tries to step in with no rhyme or reason, and the communication dies without sharing in season, comfort without change, stuck in still, the actions that become repetitive through safety's feel.