Rebels
Poetry
Waking up to a jarring sound,
we rush to leave our modern caves,
stress, fatigue, and yearning,
nothing more than well-dressed slaves.
Everything is moving swiftly.
It seems like we are always late.
A myriad of things we must do,
but our happiness has to wait.
Balancing work and life.
Relationships wane as we get older.
Smothered by daily obligations,
a veil of loneliness falls upon our shoulders.
Our mindset has forever changed.
Love and feelings have stepped aside.
Deep emotions are now buried,
murdered by our stupid ego and pride.
We are becoming shallow spirits,
giving in to meaningless pleasures.
The modern essence of success?
The number of degrees and treasures.
Perhaps it’s the economy.
Relentless growth and death.
Peace and human lives long gone,
sacrificed on the altar of wealth.
In a society built to imprison,
wild spirits will always suffer.
And if we want to escape our cell,
our inner hell we must discover.
Become a true rebel.
Not someone who yells and smashes glasses.
But someone who is honest with himself,
not following the masses.
For there is no destroying the system.
We can only hope to escape it.
But there is not a single paved path,
we all have to create it.
Freedom is subjective.
A serene tree with many leaves.
But they all have a common root,
honesty with one’s needs.
We must find the thing that gives us joy.
And fight for it till death.
Because there is only one true pain.
The smell of regret in our last breath.
In the evanescing journey of life,
we promise to leave our mark.
Because we are the true rebels,
the ones willing to light the spark.
Determined to fight for our happiness.
Until wrinkles cover our skin.
There is a tough road ahead my fellow rebels,
but in the end, we will win.
We are used to anguish and pain,
as is the fate of all the kings,
for our souls have learned to fly
with weary and fragile wings.
