Poetry Drawer: Get With The Times by Nathan Pleavin



Moralistic tendencies that can’t be truly measured,
twisted, darker side of life that leads you to be pleasured.
What is goodness? What is badness?
What is love but utter madness?
Feelings are but mere illusions,
man-made, fake and pure delusions.
Yet sometimes I still trick myself,
I put my feelings over health,
I let my heart off its lead,
I open myself up, a book to read,
I allow myself to be vulnerable,
yet always end up miserable.
So I use my solidarity as a defence,
loneliness starts making sense.
But in the end I realise,
I just get sick of all the lies,
of what to do and how to be,
that we aren’t ever truly free,
from this backwards, self-harming society.
If just being yourself is no longer allowed,
I no longer wish to be part of the crowd.

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