I don't like planet Earth.
My soul is burning,
My conscience is hurting.
Is there freedom in the world? I wouldn't believe it.
Though, it'd be nice if I was right,
If freedom existed, I'd be able to run away,
Somewhere where I could whisper a word,
Somewhere where I could peacefully sing.
There's too much chaos here on Earth.
I want to leave, but I can't.
My soul is like a fruit in a greenhouse,
Captive, held in a physical body,
That will rot one day anyway.
Wonderful, what can I say?
Freedom does not exist,
Everything is ruined.
YOU ARE READING
A World Unseen
PoetryHmmm I see you've managed to enter my subconscious mind. I welcome you with open arms, but I'm not sure whether you'll like it here. We've got: a shit ton of mental disorders, angst, passive aggressiveness, victim mentality, despair as well as a tin...
