Here comes the spectrum

{ I forgive you. I forgive you because I know a God, whose mercy has already made a room in his kingdom for even sinners like you }
- The spectrum will come.
It will come wailing with its creeping vines and flashing fangs,
It will be ready and waiting in a corner.
Ready for the sun to go the other way,
ready to absorb us all
one after the other, under its heavy weight.
The vile beast that feeds on the blood and flesh of the juvenile children
Relying on hate,
Paranoia
And ignorance to justify its unethical actions.
O’ sorrow. O’ grief.
And let me be honest, we’ll follow it.
And then we’ll let the beast be the master of the holy kingdom,
Be our captain and our commander.
We’ll let it teach new kids their way around a lie and around everything that is considered to be wrong in this world so, why ?
Why do we let it get to us ?
Why do we let it control everything that makes us who we are ?
O’ how good it is to be callous and indifferent. Right ?
And so they’ll learn how to pursue, uncover and raid.
For that they thought that aggression is the key.
Because, they think we don’t know it all.
But they’re damn wrong,
They’re blind to the fact that we are the children who know-it-all
The children, the ones who speak satire for breakfast, rely on sarcasm for lunch and starve themselves for dinner.
And when cornered by the beast you’d want to curl yourself into a question mark and ask “ What have I done wrong ? “
But no you don’t do that,
because you can’t comprehend the wilderness in him.
You can’t tame his hunger for ruin
So a satisfactory answer is served,
With just a nod of the head and a small smile pulling on the lips,
O’ sorrow. O’ grief.
Just because the noise was getting louder and heavier each time.
Just because they were afraid of getting lost in an ignorant crowd and losing sight of home.
Just because they were persecuted and put down.
How sorrowful, how grievingly it is to be young and different.
Because first thing first, they get to oppress you and criticize you.
Then they tell you how good of a listener you are and that they’re thankful for your existence.
Good grief !
My soulful cries reach out to you, but won’t you just like to see me tumble and fall ?
Won’t you just like to cut me open and tear me apart like one of your porcelain dolls ?
So you feed everyone your twisted and tangled lies.
And the worst thing ? Is that they believe you.
Maybe I’m wasting my time writing this,
Maybe no matter what I write it’s never enough to make you master what I am.
No matter the depth or length of my words it’s never enough to make you understand.
Because words are supposedly a mirror to your soul, but mine are just means to no end.
Because I know that what I say and what you hear are two different things.
And I know that some people’s voices aren’t meant to rise beyond their ears.
And that’s alright. I guess.
So O’ sorrow O’ grief.
Commanding chief please hear my prayers and bid me goodbye.
For that I bleed for the souls of those written down in history as outsiders.
O’ sorrow, O’ grief.
The spectrum has come and I still bleed.
:)
