by ty


recall within your deep slumber below the stars of the night,

the traditions and rules that forms a boundary about you;

a bubble of exclusion,

a cement wall of protection.

recall as you slip into the oblivion in the humid darkness,

the impending dangers lurking on the empty streets;

as much as trees lose their bright hues,

men lose their masks of purity.

recall as you dream of the bright innocence,

the fervent words of caution moulding a barrier;

hoping to shield you from cruelty,

and the lies within empty speech.


what is effort;

the sweat that trickles down your bruised knuckles,

the salty taste that seeps into your skin,

the aches that burn.


a myth people spoke of too lightly,

a recurring dream soon tossed away,

withering away; adagio

what is shame;

the useless reveries of hope,

the reigns that pull you back despite

the nights you walk across the road choked up.


interest, clouded and ruled over by skill.

effort, things they trampled on lightly without a care;

the cold voice echoing through our heads,

reminding us that we’ll never measure up.

talk, a tool used too cheaply,

consolation, nothing but a jab hoping to appease our minds;

the emptiness behind those words you spat at us,

numbness in the wrong places.


perhaps it didn’t matter; whether we tried,

perhaps we shouldn’t lament, and spend time looking at ourselves in the mirror.

perhaps its right that we should be given up on;

free to be treated with contempt;

nothing but pieces of crackling glass beneath your feet.


such empty words and consolations seem bright,

although they may offer a second or two of comfort,

the luminance fades away.

thinking about it we’re robots aren’t we;

puppets manipulated under the hands of our master,

the puppet strings taut;

only to be snapped by blades of alleged


just that we’re the bunch who don’t measure up,

the bunch that get cast aside;

the bunch that perhaps never


AN: /rants everywhere with cheesy shit oh well forgive me/