A World Far From Ours

yep

What happened to the consistency of safety?
It's simple ignorance, naive to everything around you
And the day it hits you, is the day you're fully alive.
It's learning to walk all over again, to understand the fears
The lies.
The emotions.
The unsurity.
The alliteration of adolesence is almost unbearable
Starting with the same beginning, the ending will be random as hell.
Exposing yourself when you're told to cover it all,
To be expected to turn so refined when you're rebellious as f**k.
Insubsorbidate, not because we choose, but it's the only place
where.
we.
belong.
Our only home of mutual understanding of perspectives
These views of the lives we live are far deeper and incredible
Than anyone remotely close minded could ever comprehend.

Why has this all been put away if it's so fresh in these young minds?
Take it out, take it out, before it's turns to dust.
Because once it's gone,
So is every hope of true love and conception of reality.
No matter what warning signals we send out, they mean nothing.
Because all is replaced with materialized,
classified,
Lies of unimportance.
To be so intolerant on the things you hate to conform too.

Why are we in such a rush everyday?
The smallest things like "waiting" for something
or someone
That may not live up to this fantasy potential?
Let's stop! For one second, sit down and think.
Make a smile, a laugh, an organism content even for a minute.
And make a difference. Take a stand. Do more than just exist.
Because we're killing the enviorment, limiting our resources,
Let's do some good for humanity.
Take this time and tie it down with chains of metal
We'll make it last, longer than the summers that seem to slip away.

Where are these words spilling out from?
My heart could never contain this much, my soul is far too much of a void,
My hands are brittle to the bone, my mind is burnt and indefinately cracked.
It's the people, the children, the fresh pollution to this teenage wasteland.
A generation in a world that's far from us.
Far from the talks on your trampoline.
Far from the stale smoke in your shed.
Far from the memories in this s**t town,
That will be engraved in us for longer than ever.
Traumatized, eye opening, heart breaking events
They act like steroids, making us stronger much too quick.

Why are these treated as rheatorical questions?
As if the answer is unknown, lost, or maybe just forbidden.
Are we the only ones who find it irrational, to have to live with no knowledge
Of the things that tie up all loose ends, and paint a picture
That shows everything thing we've lost, and the little we've gained
And I figured out these questions will never be answered.
And there's no one left to call.
And there's no one left to love.
Or to care.
Or to explain what the hell is going on.