Echoes

I wrote this... maybe two years ago or so. I was in a very existential phase, and still am, a bit... that's a long story. Anyway, this was probably at the height of my frustration, so excuse the drama

By some amazing cosmic chain of events, humans are priveleged with thought
feelings
and individuality,
but we make sure to kill as much of that as we can early on,
so all that's left is an aimless concentration of emotion and confusion,
and we're completely ignorant of what caused it.
our inability to face up to our own meaninglessness-
it's beautiful, actually, if people would just give it credit-
and our subsequent coping devices
religion (sorry)
and tradition (f**k you)
anything that will pat a person on the head
and say "don't worry, we have the answers"
These things, they mutilate everything beautiful and sacred about the mind and soul.
We condone all of this; resign ourselves to it; forget about it;
not realizing that we're 
killing
any chance we had for true thought and feeling, we're
killing
our time, we're
killing
ourselves,
and we just smile and say "six o'clock again ALREADY?"
It makes me
sick
to think that in a couple of minutes, I,
just like everyone else,
am going to, fuming, use my time- 
a chunk of my life-
to write s**t to please my teacher and parents and that side of my soul that is afraid,
going down that pre-determined path
that may lead to semi-happiness, I suppose-
the kind that comes after the Hell of having the intelligence and individuality slowly and painfully extracted from your soul.
You see, we've been given that ability to think, that ability to feel,
but we've been given very little TIME.
This SHOULD be an incentive not to put that thought, feeling, and individuality to waste,
but since this isn't the case, that short amount of time is only a curse;
all our thoughts of seizing the day become one of those dreams that is so beautiful
that when you wake up you're as grim as if you'd had a nightmare,
because best-case scenario, 
you'll spend your life being forced down a path that burns and devours time,
a supernatural wildfire
burning away chunks of people's lives,
while you know you're going to die soon,
if you compare your life with the grand scheme of things,
but you wonder if you can still call it death
if you haven't really lived.
They think I'm crazy, screaming and hitting myself in a hopeless and frantic attempt to put it out- that fire-
but I said "best-case scenario"
because they should see how they look with fire licking up their faces
singing their smiles and burning their unseeing eyes.
They're all missing chunks of their Time
and they don't even feel the hole.
We're all just kind of floundering around
in a very complex and unstable cage
that we've created,
but we treat it like
life.
how
dare
we
How dare we parallel LIFE-
the beauty and freedom and incomprehensibility and infinite wonder of true, sincere LIFE-
to a rickety little cage?
We don't know what life is,
because we won't let ourselves out.
But I feel like I'm the only one rattling the bars, 
while my cellmates whisper about the crazy girl miming in midair
and about how nice the curtains look.
Our values are fucked.
Tradition.
Acceptance.
Respect where there should be interference and
Interference where there should be respect.
Everyone learning the same exact thing,
at the exact same pace,
although I don't know a term for that-
maybe Stupidity? or just Public School?
Where's the 
INDIVIDUALITY,
the PROGRESSIVE THINKING,
the QUESTIONING SPIRIT,
the ART,
the MUSIC,
the ones who can
see
that they're in a cage,
on fire,
on a man-made path called Hell,
who are screaming and hitting themselves and rattling the bars,
who are desperately begging for TIME, for CHANGE, for a heart-wrenching saxophone solo,
for a new color,
for a new plot,
for a new thought,
for a new generation full of the spirit of REVOLUTION,
of ANGER,
of DANCE,
of BREAKING THE RULES,
of CHANGING THE RULES,
of NEVER BEING AFRAID-
Where ARE they?
Because my screams,
they echo through this cage, and they sound
awfully
alone...

Author's Note

Critique me; whatever comes to mind. Too dramatic? Change the caps? Like the caps? Tell me :)

Reviews

[Nick.B]

Interesting poem you managed to write here, your raised some questions with this write, it's true sometimes we change our goals dreams and pursuit some dreams that aren't even ours...great write, love your style

[livicote]

Thanks so much :))