Thunderous Wanderer iii

I awake each day a slave to myself
Filled with questions
Of who I am
On the journey
To wealth
All dreams instilled in me
Programmed from the birth of me
To be the best at anything
I set my mind to be
Yet I question
questions arise
I sit still and question
What’s it all for?
Who is it all for?
What does it all mean?
Who says I have to be anything?
Other than me
Why is me not enough?
To set me free
From this cage I think I’ve built
Why is freedom tough ?
Who has to pay for independent thought?
if freedom is not free?
or being free is dumb
I find myself asleep
Stuck in a nightmare of my own design
with no time for grief
No time to remorsely feel
The regret that runs through me
haunting my every dream
Bothering my endless thinks
I stand on aimless feet
Stuck running in circles
Like a rat in a cosmic wheel
Too insignificant to matter to anything
everyone who cares enough for me
worried I’ll never be
The potential within me
afraid to let me see the truth
Let me see the truth
Let me feel the truth
Let me know it’s true
knowing that somewhere is
My reality
superficial identity
Created insanity
Divergent tenacity
Running from A to Z
Testing everything
Searching memories
Ancient texts and diversity
Even the death of me
To set me free
asking in vanity
believing insanity
vain enough to let me be
The perfect child of vanity
Asking for clarity
To be sound enough
To be the perfect sound of everything
The golden child
chosen by the Gods
or the elder sons
to run the world
with fingers on strings
jumping hurdles
pushed by forces of digits
in sequence unseen
expressing every emotion
in single note succession
making bodies move
reminded of times unwritten
passed down from the ancestral tree
through seeds of blood
married by oath
to families
sharing thoughts and dreams
of what life could be
freedom is free
painting lines on clouds
words without
sharing thoughts and crown
the game is nigh
how can I be now?
how can I recline?
using all emotions
as tools to paint the sky
leave a mark upon the world
change my thoughts to solid walls
building things that last forever
so all can see and say
I can do it too
I can do it today
no more delay
palm trees of coiling springs
spring forth from destiny
the crown of blasphemy
representation of identity
needing no mentioning
all recognition
a child at seventy
yet too grown for serenity


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