The future is for dreamers

Ideas fuel the future but we are told not to think. Our future is
doomed, without the fuel of ideas we'll run out of gas. We'll slow to a
stop until the dreamers fly by while watching us die. We look up to
the sky to see what can be. We are inspiried and set free. Growing
wings of our own we learn to fly and let go of the lies. The future
becomes just that; the future. We set forth on our new paths to dream.
The world seems so clean without the haze of lies over our eyes.

Journal. Future.

I full up these pages with thoughts of meaningless inner personal struggle. The words I speak don't hold the key to clarity or inner happiness. They can, at most, just cause more thought. It hurts to think of things I can't discuss with others because they don't care. It hurts when I indulge in someones thoughts and they will not do the same for me. I hate the state of humanity, I don't see us going anywhere we should. I see us going places that should strike fear and anguish in our hearts. Instead we smile while our future bleeds shadow. Every kid will be corrupted with the things that should never be.

The past

When you look in the mirror do you see yourself? Or what you've felt? The scars from the past; do you wear them like a mask? Hide yourself behind yourself? Or do you shed tears of light, fuel for your fight. Melt what youve felt and let the mask fall away like the past.

A new world order. How intelligence should rule.

Instruments of war laid to waste by the ink of a martyr. Writen in the life of another, the words flow like a vain from my mind. Like the changing of seasons the struggles come and go, each time overcome the same as before. The ink runs read through the hearts of the dead.