CLING
ABOUT:
After all, as humans, we will never change. "My way" will always remain "the right way."
Until eventually, of course, it's not anymore.
Even these words aren't enough to explain my hatred. There's something harsh that clings to the tip of my tongue. Something harsh that will never become loose.
So, here they are, laid bare - my words, a description of an unnamed rage.
"i wish the printing press was never invented,"
and "i wish cameras were never invented"
we let these delusions of greatness break us,
as we step into a new tomorrow who remains deaf to our words.
"the internet is stupid 'cuz i get bullied on it,"
and "love is toxic 'cuz i got broken up with"
if only everything were my way, the world would go round
and yet these hand-transcribers disappeared, and life goes on.
"forgotten."
i don't like to hear honest words like those.
i'd rather drown them out with prayers.
"remember me."
i don't want to sound pathetic,
so i pretend i'm justified in my fears instead.
if only the printing press was never invented,
if only cameras were never invented,
if only i had never existed - then i would never have to be forgotten someday.
and yet, i was born.
i cover up my cries with false moralities
i cover up my suffering by calling it "the human condition"
"this is how it is, how is should remaining"
"hand-transcribing is how it will always be" - with selfish words, i lied
because i wanted to play god, i lied.
yet, life goes on, and i too will soon die.
i was too afraid to admit that we're humans,
and so the next generation will say, "god praise the newspaper."