Free-Dumb

YOU, You who assumes knowledge on the precipis of prejudice! God takes and God gives, but YOU, You who does one thing and says another will one day drive a man to reject your hospitality.
Heaven in Death is Li(f)e in a Grave. YOU, with open arms, accept Hell because you've created it with your system. YOU, You who reduces himself to a number in the database, to a comma in a sentence, YOU, You, who reduces himself to grammatic baseness, smudging squabbled drabs of dripping ink throughout the Book of Life.
Vanity is obscene as intellectuals abusing profanity, and YOU, You who plays the martyr and crucifies himself, are as vain as birthdays and anniversaries, Christmas and Ramadaan, for how can you confine timelessness to the grid of a calendar, to lunar cycles and to solar circles, when forever is momentuous, captured by those who Carpe Diem? Perhaps, the same way way you worship the key your shackles, or maybe in the con you fall for at face value. But hey, I'm just a grown-ass kid who seems to know everything about ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

I will not address you by name, but by eye contact alone. I will say the words you want to hear and be as honest as you'll have me be. You taught me not to argue with fools, but I might just have a go. It's the only time you talk to me anyway, so, nothing's wrong... If you ask me.

A lie to shrug it off, a burden on the shoulders, a lie is nothing more than me making my way yours. Some say that that's a coward's code of honour, but I live through it everyday with the broken spirit of a risen warrior.
The fractured spectrum of my mirror portrays photographic isolation, like a product with a price-tag advertised with neon lights flashing:
Eventually expendable, in this town where change comes and goes, where conversations revolve around how spare change comes and goes, where Fathers become bosses, where Sons raised by Art are forced into becoming the Employees of the month.

See, in this world, the train-tracks are the roots of the city, sucking the life out of us to add fuel to the factory's furnace, stressing the Soul until it snaps and destabilising everything from balance to though.
And after all the blood is bled, sweat has been sweated, and the tears have fallen unnoticed,
All that youl have to show for your Li(f)e is a fucking payslip that will NEVER BUY YOU FREEDOM!