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The Present

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Welcome to the present, which isn't so much a gift
and this rift in our heads is spreading
I don't need anyone to tell me whether the line in my life
is straight or curved, it is not up to them if I should be observed
I'm so sick of holding my words.
Those words drip out of their mouths like rain
which is no surprise because of the clouds in their brain
and I shouldn't need to explain why I am so tired.
Its not a question of yes, no, or please, but
I just need people to see
that the world is so much bigger than you or me,
and though the metals on your wrist keep moving,
and your heart beats at you, disapproving,
it is not your choice whether you die or go free.
Let me be.
Let them be.

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