Im flying further and further away from myself

And closer and closer into becoming a tool in a hardware project of furthering another’s half hearted dream

Is it a dream if it isn’t affluently genuine

Is it your own dream if all you’re doing is trying to appeal to others

I feel like im being used as a slingshot when my arms don’t bend that way

I didn’t necessarily understand that’s what I was being paid for

I would stop if I didn’t need money to live

I would stop and grow out my hair like the wild land I could live on

Open and free with streams running through sifted grassy plains like a gentle hand on your back telling you it’ll always be ok

But instead I live in Capitalism

Where everything is as hollow as a drum but somehow finds a way to never produce sound

Heartache shouldn’t be feared

It’s the numbing silence that finds its way in between the seams of your thoughts that end up ruining your life

At least with heartache you know you can still feel

Because I don’t here

And I wish, at the very least, that I could convince myself I do