Crafted for someone extremely special,
Suffering from a severe case of cold-feet.
When you’re not ready to conform,
But the whole world is,
So you find yourself struggling,
Within the shackles of your own imagination,
Defining and then Re-defining boundaries,
Drowning in confusion,
Smothered by love.
No one seems to understand,
That your disagreement is not on a whim,
That there is a madness soaked in the rays of the sun and the moonlight,
That leaves you pacing back and forth,
In the depths of the alleys of your mind,
Where you have a million conversations with yourself,
Trying to make sense.
We are this cursed generation,
Living in flight mode,
Instead of fight mode,
In a state of constant warfare,
With our own selves.
When we’re not ready to conform,
But the whole world is,
All we want to do,
Is to hit pause,
Freeze time,
And run away!
writing336 