Shakespeare

I’ve come to see,

That beyond the masks,

The artificial acts,

There only remains verbal attacks.

Whoever wrote the book on happiness was obviously high.

Because in this system of things,

Happiness is only defined by a state of elevation,

And drugs are the medium to this revelation.

Shakespeare was right.

"All the world’s a stage. And all the men and women merely players."

Players of intrusion and arrogance.

Think I’m wrong?

Take a gander at all the ignorance that surrounds us.

Beyond all the greed and lust.

When your ‘perfect little world’ crashes down in flames,

You’ll see beyond all the fun and games.

Begin to forget all the names.

And in the end, you’ll be shackled in chains.

Left only with your eyes.

To watch all the pain that surrounds us.

We’re all actors because we all hide what’s truly inside.

The demons within us aren’t expelled by modern buildings.

Two perpendicular wooden slabs can’t protect you.

Water with a different name won’t grant you salvation.

So this leaves the many to take arms.

Run wild with anguish; torture and harm.

All because they don’t like what they see.

So extermination is used as a tactic by the cowards that flee.

And what’s left?

After happiness and loved ones have abandoned you.

You try not to care and hold a high chin.

But you still can’t fight the demons within.

So what’s left?

After your security and sanity slowly fades.

The physical upright stature you once had is now a twisted maze.

And you think you’ll have friends to help you stand.

But they betray you and fell your right hand.

Send you letters that appear to be in joy.

But in reality, it’s a hidden message of reprimand.

Well I’ll be damned.

Either way, what’s left?

Anger and hatred.

All the lies that were pent up and the discarded ‘friends’ that you despise.

All in anger and hatred.

That’s the only thing left.

So go ahead, continue to play your game.

Continue to act in vain.

I have disposed of happiness and hatred consumes my brain.

I’m done smiling.