Belabored are the breasts and brows of those so dearly trapped in this swamp
This the swamp of mediocrity and dream denying death
That death so real but not of body or mind
It's a death of the soul, the power within for true beauty
That beauty we were sold to be our freedom in youth
A youth that was full of parental lies - lies for us to not be them
But here we are - And we are fucking them all over again
That vicious cycle - that devourer of creativity of imagination
of all real freedom
We, like our parents and ancestors, were meant to RISE
We, like our parents and ancestors, are just COGS in the wheel of...
History lost and names forgotten
About the Creator
j.d. davis
Seeker. Thinker. Melancholy. Conflicted believer. Evolving human. Bipolar being. And sometimes I use bad words.
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