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Poetry: Written in High School
I Am a Sound
I am not a body,
a prison cell for the soul
in which the only joy that can be experienced
is what can penetrate the deceitful senses.
It evolves and lengthens,
all to be plagued by sickness;
A vessel destined for abandonment
that eventually crumbles to nothing
but ashes to blanket the earth.
Once the temporary state of tangibility is left,
What have you?
Shame for investing such faith
into what only inhibits you.
Beauty is untouchable.
I am not a concept,
an excuse to inflict petty morality
upon heads, flooding with white noise,
too lost to philosophize their own realities;
Meanings, too often rejected,
are hidden within man-made hieroglyphics,
then distorted, exploited, massacred
as a sacrifice to a man-made god known as "Capital."
Toy soldiers stand in a line,
ready to defend what they do not know,
ready to slaughter their brothers, enslave their children to strangers,
and die for the very source that numbs them to love.
The phenomena fades, the silver tarnishes,
and a new system is born.
What I am is a sound,
a song that reverberates through the walls of the universe in waves.
Formless, limitless, infinite -
free from the cancerous conventions,
that declare the unknown, the forbidden, non-conformity,
as taboos, curses,
to keep them from realizing that they've missed out.
I am a sound, unlike anything you've ever heard
that extends beyond the boundaries,
echoes off of the stars,
serenades the sun,
and fleets into the cosmic shadows of forever.
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