There’s a feeling in my chest that, Nothing is what we are told anything to be at all. How movies portray more truth than the news reporting what seems like is meant to stall, Our arrival into a truth that would make the average person fall to their knees and bawl…
Incredible, How my younger self already knew what would happen nowadays, While others twice my age, Still can’t fathom every lie plastered right in front of their face. And, Never was reading 1984 necessary to understand what’s hidden in plain sight as, Our blood boils into a steamy rage…
We’ve always been given a choice. Either, Dip into a lake of fire, Or, Wells of faith preventing us from caving in to those demons most admire. Demons branding us as their fodder when touching our hearts beating for something higher…
But, Who am I to tell a soul, Muffling their ears from a truth that will be told, By pain they’ll suffer when it all unfolds? After all, I don’t have a piece of paper certifying my knowledge. My only option, Is to console another to the degree they’ve been burnt by a pot of, Darkness where their verity gets burnt to a crisp. Dead inside, Unresponsive…
m3l0dicverse 
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