Conformity's Wasteland

May 4, 2010
By
More by this author
The burning sands of time
Slip slowly through the green hourglass of my eye
I stand alone beneath overcast skies
Lost in a crowd
People stream by, I long for
One look, one glimpse
One familiar face
To tell me I’m not the only one
Alive and thinking in this pale gray world
Where thoughts are smothered
Originality snuffed
The flame of genius blown out by those who would control us
I am told:
Do not dream
Do not create
Do not dare to stand apart, be different, be unique
The echoes of the beautiful tormented souls
Who have gone before me
Whisper encouragement in my ear
And among the spirals of darkness
Stands a beacon to the lost
I stumble towards it





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback