It’s not much, but at least it’s home.
It’s the best place I’ve ever known.
In my world I live where I’m just me.
My door is open, as you can see.
I’m unsure: would you like to drop by?
I’ll keep it ajar without any sigh.
We could talk if you’d like, anytime.
Open conversations are my favorite crime.
I’m not sure what you’d rather talk about.
Somethings are just better let out.
We don’t NEED stories; it’s still a choice.
I just want to hear your amazing voice.
Anything would do; nothing is taboo.
If something IS, I’d love to hear it too!
My abode is a mess, but it’s me, you see.
I’m chaos and compassionate anarchy.
Perhaps, I have no country;
No, I know not the gods.
I’ve no religion, you see.
We’re gambling with the odds.
I have known not hunger.
What is suffering and pain?
What is the cause of anger?
Why do we live life in vain?
What is beyond protection?
Is this all the world there is?
What’s the point of consumption?
Is there something I could miss?
I’d rather leave this fortress
to see a world with my own eyes.
This luxury shall only suppress
a man who lives and merely dies.
I ask you to take me to the street
and let me feel the entire truth.
The throne is not a seeker’s seat!
I’d rather know than waste my youth!
Suppose life was more than just a story to tell;
suppose we see more than business to sell;
if a person isn’t just our emotional dumping ground;
could we be more than just noise and sound?
What if we aren’t right about anything?
What if righteousness wasn’t ours to sing?
Would we judge anyone and play victim again?
Could we possibly see that we’re not alone then?
Imagine if we don’t merely assume, judge, and conclude.
Would we receive each other or forever elude?
What if we don’t signify ourselves so much?
Could this possibly bring back our human touch?
I know that I’d no longer have another complaint
if I choose right now to be humane than a saint.
But, since it’s all hypothetical, are we really alive?
Could one choice alone not our humanity revive?