plain jain
I am no author. I am no photographer. I am no artist. I am no creator.
I am nothing special, to say much of at all.
I am average and plain. I fit in the crowd, I get lost in the mass, my voice is swallowed by the buzz of the busyness of life around me.
I am a grey-eyed, grey-souled spirit with nothing more to give.
They have drained me and sapped me and tapped into the only life-force I had, stole it, and sold it by the gallon for inspiration to the boiling masses. They have drank my life and chisseled away at my mind and have taken away my passion, bottled it, and put it on a shelf and in their gelato and blended it into their ice-blended coffee drinks so they could sell a few more.
They have taken my color and painted their walls, taken my fire and lit their candles and incense, taken my visions and covered their windows with it as a valance. They have stuffed my dreams into La-Z-Boys with arm rests and remote control holders to make them more convenient.
They have stolen me, packaged me, and sold me. Put me on sale, on clearance, and moved me to the back as I don't sell all that well. They tell people they want me, they need me, they are looking for me. But it's lies - all of it. The taking, the stealing, the making, the creating, the giving, the selling.
We run off of lies that strip people down to bones and grind them into powder to make more concrete to pour on our sidewalks to get to our shops and sell our things. But we forgot that there's people in our streets and blood in our wine and bones in our bread and tears in our veins.
We say we want to change the world. We are only pretending. Because no one is alive to be changed.
-Rk
I am nothing special, to say much of at all.
I am average and plain. I fit in the crowd, I get lost in the mass, my voice is swallowed by the buzz of the busyness of life around me.
I am a grey-eyed, grey-souled spirit with nothing more to give.
They have drained me and sapped me and tapped into the only life-force I had, stole it, and sold it by the gallon for inspiration to the boiling masses. They have drank my life and chisseled away at my mind and have taken away my passion, bottled it, and put it on a shelf and in their gelato and blended it into their ice-blended coffee drinks so they could sell a few more.
They have taken my color and painted their walls, taken my fire and lit their candles and incense, taken my visions and covered their windows with it as a valance. They have stuffed my dreams into La-Z-Boys with arm rests and remote control holders to make them more convenient.
They have stolen me, packaged me, and sold me. Put me on sale, on clearance, and moved me to the back as I don't sell all that well. They tell people they want me, they need me, they are looking for me. But it's lies - all of it. The taking, the stealing, the making, the creating, the giving, the selling.
We run off of lies that strip people down to bones and grind them into powder to make more concrete to pour on our sidewalks to get to our shops and sell our things. But we forgot that there's people in our streets and blood in our wine and bones in our bread and tears in our veins.
We say we want to change the world. We are only pretending. Because no one is alive to be changed.
-Rk
