Isn't it funny how we underestimate the power of our voices?
this sound that emanates from our throats, formulating words...
...are not just noises

Right?
I'm guessing it's pretty silly to assume that our voices are just perfectly placed noises, combining to converse with others, argue with others, woo others, defend others, offend others...

And it occurs to me that my voice, is not used the way I want it to be
instead, it's being limited. Limited to the sombre pleasures of others
entertaining people who probably don't bother, much about me
instead my voice is caged up, way up in my own thoughts

They say talking to yourself is the first sign of schizophrenia
do people who fear talking talk to themselves? Glossophobia they call it.
I say talking to others contributes to our enraging insanity
the society that conceals my voice, taints the will to be heard.

One day I got up from my seat in class to say a speech
I was surprised with what I was about to meet.
first came the silence, then the bafflement
people for the first time got the chance to hear my voice

Bewilderment? yes, Endearment? no
for what they heard was not the sound of a nightingale in the forest
but rather the sound of an emancipated prison screaming to the reaches of the farthest

The scene made me sit back and assess
my life looking back needed to be addressed
A voice isn't supposed to be internalised, is it?
But why do I struggle to break out?

Why is it so hard to let people hear my voice?
Why, why, why

My answer?

That's what you get when you underestimate the power of your voice.

The cushioned fabrics of early sensorimotor expression placate the salivating ghouls of formative destinations which lurk at the neurological gates of repulsive awareness - stripping our fragments and revealing the cellular walls of repelling invitation.
Unfortunately, each surpassing second dictates her significance across zones and frequencies, while we succumb to the arduous process of being ignorantly unwrapped and unleashed into the bountiful emptiness of insight.
That’s life.
In this crude and psychological pre-operational stage of misplaced trust, we are pressing against cosmological forces, into the realms of internalised experiences where the veneer is eventually understood to be characterised by utmost deception.
Let us become formal amidst this abstract projection into harsh environments where the donning of masks can no longer be undertaken with sincerity.
Here, my universal being of connected severance, is the gorgeous discovery of abhorrence.
Like I said: it is the beauty of our beast.

Rusted handcuffs leave their mark,
Your wrists are chafed, coarse and stained dark.
You are used to light sneaking in through your cage’s bars,
Knees bent in adulation for kings and tsars –
A prison built for us in our hollowed-out minds,
A life lived with shuttered doors and closed blinds.

The handcuffs are our perceived obligations,
Our possessions and designated work stations.
The cell’s cold bars
Are not made of steel and enforced laws,
But of fear and hate, our biggest flaws.
Fear of ostracisation,
Hatred of those from another nation,
Fear of being downtrodden,
Hatred over differences that weren’t chosen,
But were simply there.

We are afraid of making waves or changes,
Stuck to a routine like slaves throughout the ages.
Our way of life has broken our spirit –
We are drunk with luxury, and we’ve imbibed over the limit.
We are afraid of looking at the mirror sometimes;
Afraid of eyes that stare back blankly,
Terrified of looking at this world honestly and frankly.

Do you wish to be liberated?
Do you wish to stop suffering because of this hatred?
Would you like to see
A world full of people that are brave and free?
Then here’s the point that matters most;
If you wish to live without restriction and not like a ghost,
Then these mental chains you must break.
When you realise that freedom is the only thing that matters,
The illusion stops being real, the matrix shatters.

If you hold back because you’re afraid of prosecution,
What’s the point of going about your day,
When your right to speak freely has already had its day of execution?
If you do not work on what you feel is right,
What’s the point of dreaming of a future that is bright?
If you’re in a system where your ideas and desires are impossible,
Where dreams and aspirations are rendered implausible,
Then is it a life worth living?

Do you wish to die having lived for someone else’s greed?
Do you wish to spend your days watching the world around us bleed?
If that is not your wish, then do not forget;
The greatest power at their disposal is your fear and regret.
We are here for a very short time –
To attempt to unfuck humanity is a long, difficult, climb
But this is how we begin.
We must find strength from within,
Admit that our life is unsustainable,
Living for impossible standards that are unattainable.

We must search for our lost roots, our core;
You will not find happiness or peace in the next clothing store,
For it is a journey of letting things go.
It is a journey leading to a truth which you already know –
When you are no longer terrified,
When your faith in yourself you have solidified,
When these beliefs you have internalised,
Then you will suffer no longer.

Doubt and turmoil will cease,
For you are now carrying the flag of peace.
People shouldn’t be afraid of their governments;
Governments should be afraid of their people,
For a global awakening is happening
And we are sick to the core of all this evil.

If the unadulterated truth is on your side,
Although it may take years of swimming against the tide,
Your actions WILL bear fruit,
Maybe not in a month, maybe not even a decade,
But it’s a journey worth pursuing, a life as a renegade.
We are in this mess
Because old men sent young people to die for them in wars –
Now it’s time to reverse the course,
And learn how to think and fight on your own,
Before it’s too late and we’re all kneeling
In front of some *******’s throne.