Go to bed, Poet

Plaster me in solid casing

Stuff me in a mold

Drench me in Redbull and let me metamorphizes through a power nap

I'm begging for some respite and motivation

And the need of guilt and pressure to dissipate from every moment of rest I allow myself to breathe in

I don't want to wake up just to stay awake

Nor the ache of too-long laid bones to be my only reason to get out of bed

It can't be that we've worn ourselves down so early, that fast

Yet we all know that this system was not built to last

Industrializing this art is both crime and necessity

I'm tired of living in contradictions

A binary code that everyone is just so sick and tired of

Even the bigots are tired, afraid, chicken shit

Does community still find joy?

And you might think, Oneg, what are you even going on about?

But that's the point

What are we even going on about? And why are we still so damn divided

We're all just tired, afraid, chicken shit

Wanting to be seen, heard, acknowledged

But no. This system was not built to survive.

It does not benefit the masses, and only short term rewards the top

Rome too, came crumbling down

Pompeii nothing but ash and story

And yet we keep asking, what legacy will we leave behind on this scarred earth?

How will our story go?

And which character will you play?

The one who loved? Or the one filled with hate.