they barge and binge over whatever first lands in front of them
they never seek beauty in the world...
they just want it all....all...all...until there is nothing left....
and if they sence true...anything true...they will certainly not apreciate...rather mold it into a fasette
until they kill it....or try to make it plastic....
plastic high fabrications...of fabrications...and fabrications of the exact same organism...
Humans into dots..of beings that are not....multi fabrications of tons of plastic little soldiers saluting
to the flags of silicone.....
Cause tin soldiers died....they died,...o course...they where made of tin....tins a crude real material...a life form if you may....
not poison...alike plastic...
and faithfully the plastic soldiers march towards their gathered same destiny.....
and alike humans before...before the age of true insanaty...came...
they checked....and where quite good at spotting real silver...real gold....and all sorts of metals...
and stones....
The nation of the plastic army have their own radios and will detect any real human walking by
as a real treath to their plastic existence....they call good life....
good life
good life
anything they would truly do...to keep their good fasetted scenery they call good life....
ll
Their body fills up with fear....they even sweath...and wish to kill you...or attack you on the spot....
but a cruel mentioned word about you...to their friends might be just enough....
The most sad vision is an old old gray person...often females.c..grown old in their plastic souls..
still they never grew with wisdom....sad...sad...sad world....
and also this sorts...often have their true threath....organism ratio on....on...on...and yes...this one...are
truly willing to jump on you....stare at you flatly...scream absurdities towards you.....
thinking this will certainly be their last chance ticket to heaven.....
And they belive it....with the chore of their being......
The chore left of struggling cells...keeping alive a body without a soul......
I see in them...friends...friends...that i lost into the plastical realms...of life.....
Friends...that radio me...as a problem.....
yes...i am a problem....cause i will make your mask fall...fall to not ever recover...if you as much as
try try...or dont try....
Just my mere presence....will dissolve soo much
and maybe i am sometimes sorry for that....
but sometimes...i am also NOT........
It is hard for a child of soo such truth to grow up in a plastic world.....
I teach her to lie...a little...just a little ...just for the fun.....
He calls me cruel...
But he should know...this story tellings are just healthy...and maybe her own only assett ....at a
time of despair.....
cause....even if we do tell stories...
it doesnt mean we are part of the great ugly theather with the curtains up....waiting....dancing...dancing for the plastic audience.....
Smelling of poison....
worshipping the poison....the poisonous crowd....
calling it Normality....
Normality...such a beautyful sane word....that has stopped to exists...other then in theory.....
I wish we could in this world reach the normalites...of life....
Nature is a Normality...of life.....
But do we learn from nature....no...we learn for great twisted minds...that we call our leaders......
and that is when i know...that the world is lost......
lost....
lost.....
Still the misteaching to the children continues.....
I never learned a thing from my adulst around me....
I refused simply....
I wish more children did...truly....
cause yes...children learn by action....
and here in this planet...mostly they learn nothing...nothing of the good.....
Just how to be a good plastic soldier....for the audience....
Oh....Northern light...soo special you are....
soo ...adult in a baby body...my poor little girl....
already she knows love and to be crushed by it.....a little boy whoom actually kisses everybody....
poor love....
i wish i could tell her...it would get better....
but...i can`t can I
While the other girls just thinkin about trivialitys...she already is asking the big questions.....
It is not easy....to be special....and not everyone can just be it....cause movies spot it as a trend....
it is heavy...heavy of that persona who is different....
its not something one walks about feeling proud of.....
One is ashamed...ashamed ..for being made...soo genuine....
and making stories ....and putting on a mask of polite...or fasettes....is only a way to breath from it...
Not alike others....who put it on..to get personal gains....
it is different you see....
it is just soooo very differente.....
Kommentarer
Legg inn en kommentar