Inception

There are times
When I’m a mystery to myself
Where opinions are expressed
Based on the minutest observation
Mere witnesses to the truths I see
Without any real foundation
Other than the innate belief That instinct is the mother of enlightenment.

Sometimes they offend the faithful
I become the jester
My own misgivings
Hasty conclusions
The nemesis
That will never be defeated
But they’re just thoughts
Ideas nothing more
Throw them away if you wish.

Sincerity,
Humility,
A lack of belief
In the image portrayed
All workings in the mind
Of a maddening soul
Screaming to find truth
In the lies that smother
That suffocate
That are implanted
Repeated,
For no other purpose
Than to deceive and destroy.

Paranoia
The father of a bastard existence
Trust something to be earned
On the road to admiration
And it is
Earned I mean
Yet never truly deserved.

Starved of knowledge
You suffer
As sinister beings
Feed off the aspirations
Of those who dream
The seeds of doubt they sow
No more than a moment of power
A lie to the minions
Who live under the facade
of the righteous.

You live,
Dare to question,
Search for answers unspoken
In the hearts of men rotting
In their own self-loathing.

Then one day you see
Remember to breath
To exhale the poisonous fumes
Of empty words that choked you
It is only then when you listen
Hear the echo of your heart
Beating in time to
Some far off dream
That you are free.

Reah Roberts ©2012

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