His indignity is masked by silence,
He gave up trying long ago.
He expended tremendous effort
To expose the depths of his soul.
but none understood, instead
They tried to assign him a role
In their drama, selfish
Inclination toward complete
And utter domination
They seek control
Of all in their tiny sphere
But they will not succeed here
They’re blind and cannot see
that all I long for, all I need
is the freedom to be me.
Every moment botched by transience.
Why not wander without aim
In this sick and twisted game?
If he places his hope in a far off star,
It burns out years before he’s begun.
If he puts it in this planet,
It’s scorched and dried up by the sun.
Six billion people praying
To different gods they can’t see,
Six billion people saying
There’s no such thing as me.