Oh Quiet World

(Took me about fifteen minutes to write, and I wrote it at 4 A.M. I best not find out anyone has copied it or I'll be pissed. Although it is not likely one would stumble across this anyway.)

The darkness enveloped the quiet world of stone.

A shaking hand lights the fuse of flame.

What is the point of living? We are humans, oracles of ourselves, we are our own belief and we put that belief into

Someone that is not like us.

Someone that we believe will save us if something goes wrong.

There are thousands, millions, billions of us

We segregate out of fear, imprisoned in this falsity of fear of the outside world.

A conflict we now call war rages around us and closes in: east, west, south and north.

As children, we fought to learn, to educate, because if we were not educated

We would fail in the 'real world'.

Well, dammit, I want to know what that real world is.

Because it is not the one humans made, no, we are living in this thing we called society

Where humans pit against each other fruitlessly in the name of their sickening belief

At night I lay in my bed and think, is there anyone like me?

That hopes for something more than just this world, more than just a job,

And this thing called love, and then dying a sickly death at an old age

Or young, in that case, because in this world there are such thing as the insane,

Who kill and murder people just for the blood, oh no reason at all.

We are humans.

Humans that pick sides because they do not want to stand in the middle, do not want

To think of anything but Earth

To think of anything but getting a job and making money, but for what?

Why do we need to learn, educate meaninglessly for this job, this job that allows us to eat.

Indulgences, oh the indulgences of the human race.

Popping pills, the haze of being drunk, the drug.

It is only when the world is quiet I can stand to think of this, because in the day I must function

As a human.

I must withstand the prejudice, the segregation, the slurs and the

Killing.

Humans fear death because more than thousands of us die every death,

With our blood on the hands of someone we do not know,

Perhaps a grudge.

I do not want a job here, I want something different. Unheard of.

But no. I must pick the job that gives me the most money because without this money

I will fail.

And here we open up our textbooks, and here children find that

Humans, with their narrow minds struggle to find this scapegoat, so they may kill

And then they spread rumors out of jealousy, because it is something they can enjoy