It hurts my head
when I think on what you say.
It hurts my head
to process this much insipidness…
Why dim the light of other’s minds
with your fog of words?

And you go on…
Saying how everything should be
with such finality…
What purpose is there to everything?
If everything were as you saw it…
Where is the room for discovery?
You, who speak with such authority…

You speak of progress and modernity
Yet, the words you spew are rife with your isms.
When you speak of past times,
what you put on display
is your lack of understanding and abundance of ignorance…

Do you remember those moments?
Before you lost yourself to the everydays of life?

Pick it all up and put it in a box
and place it somewhere far away
These fragmented remains

Working through the pain is all that I have so much left to do away with all that is wrong way of doing things it matters to one such as I don’t have all the answers can raise more questions can be difficult to deal with it doesn’t matter of the heart of the problem accepting the truth about who I am none of these things and yet I am