anytime ally. whats going on by the way? email me right?
ill post one thing for ya. i wrote this in yr 10, so its fairly sh!t compared to my more recent stuff....i dont want a name for it though, i dont know why. ill name it, "untitled"...
the child stands there vainly
in a futile attempt to be heard.
His unsubstantial voice lost
among the forbidding sea
of attempts to make a difference.
They mix.
Forming an impotent music.
Over looked, overheard.
Unavailing to the incoherent leaders.
They are the conductors of the miserable song.
The volume is lowered.
The song can still be heard.
Strain, you can hear it.
It can be transposed, deafened
But It Cannot Be Stopped.
The child has grown,
a child no longer.
The young man stands before them,
Nothing but a shell.
His hopes and dreams lost,
assimilated by a world.
This world abhors individuality.
The leaders smile.
Justice for the rich, whips for the poor.
He spoke of parity, of righteousness.
Nothing but a shell.
They say the empty can rattles the most,
his story goes out.
Revelations of revolution spread.
Quenched by the punishment of the now-old-man.
With him it begun,
Through him it ends...