The Sheepdogs' Prisoner's Escape

feel unheard, want others to know its ok to not be hear, want others to listen to those not heard

Past explored, book implored but left confused.
Checked the mirror, pressed the gas then accelerated.
And I accelerated again, chose the direction, left the benz a trend again,
the second time I've gone awol but I had to leave.
So much noise but I can't hear and I need some sleep.
Awake but etherized no one seems to see,
Or hear a single syllable I have to say but I am awake.
Awake to choice and make my way,
just toneless without a way to name
an opinion or place to call my own.
My whole persona is a fantasy all alone.
My whole aroma is tasteless, white to the nose.
My whole aura is invisible, you can't see.
Still I plea and I plea and then settled to please.
Is this my life or am I living in someone else world?
"Do I dare disturb the universe? Eliot spoke.
Well I am still toneless and left to note,
left to leave my words on paper for the reader to read.
Can't you see, no one hears me?
Should I even try or is it too late?
I'll never give up, my life to take.
I'll never back down, even if I'm never heard.
Because never heard is better then left to herd.
And left in the herd are those who still can't hear.
The one's who are blind and still can't feel so they steal
their opinions from other meals.
Caged animals suck in a mask,
they lost their path
and are stuck in a line
so lost even St. Anthony can't find.
So am I mad that I'm not heard?
Not glad but I am content,
 not fulfilled but better than ever,
Jack said better together
but that just sounds kind of clever.
I have my own voice and so do you.
Use it and let those around you use theirs too.
The worst thing you can do is not listen.
Let them plea, please.