BRiNK

I’m not crazy.

I’m not . Everyone else is .

You see ghosts, I see people, we’re both scared.  What’s the difference anyway? Only in movies they make ghosts look scarier which is contrary to what lies in reality. Be scared of people, at least the dead don’t break your soul.

I’m not hallucinating, but the voices keep following me. Everywhere, everywhere I go dammit. They tell me the things that I already know, the things I've concluded from the things I'm been through, things that almost killed me. Why won't they stop? They come in shapes of broken people and damaged children. The rich and the poor don't differentiate, they're both fucking sad and broken; voices scream about them and this wrecked world. Oh god make it stop. 

I'm a prisoner. A fucking prisoner. My hands are bound, so is my will and everything that I am. This freedom that you think you have is just an illusion. We're all the dolls in a big doll house, more like rats in a maze. A fucking experiment that's not even scientific, we're animals. Atleast animals have us to love them, we don't even have ourselves. 

Trapped. 
Trapped. 

The walls are closing in day by day as I notice all the clues to labyrinth of a jail, they're closing in, more more... 
No, I can't. 
If I'm not insane yet, I will be.

Insanity is a boon in this bottomless pit of wretchedness. 

"Something out of everything that is wrong" -

Lets talk about reality for a second. It comes down to the missing and ignorance of the things we like to pretend are important to us  

Its about mother who stays oblivious to the cries of her children,
Why? Because she's too busy praying for them to be happy. Well nobody told her that god won't help the greedy, the lazy ones. You can't be rich overnight. You have to work for it. 

Its about the poet who cries in sadness of her ink but refuses the see the stars that blossom overnight, a striking reminder of hope that thrives against the darkness of this realm. 
You can't be sad without being happy. Sadness is the definition of missing happiness. You don't have the right to be sad if you weren't happy once.

It's about the guy that gulps up hours of life in a bar with uncanny amount of alchohol, ranting about what he lost, disrupting the way of life the others live around him but also flowing with it because people can relate to it. It's not uncommon but you wish he wasn't too blunt. He makes you remember the sins of society that you also took part in. 

It's about the guy that is too kind for his own good. The nicest of people are looked down upon in this barbaric world. Society tends to find flaults in the flawless. It makes you sad, makes you think, 'what's the point of being good anymore?' Honestly?  I don't think anybody can answer that.

It's about the people who meet you in streets and some schools and some houses, with a heart so pure that it will melt yours. You smile, thinking, there might be hope after all. But then you see them after months, years perhaps. They've changed. The light's gone. Their eyes don't sparkle like stars anymore, they won't look at you or at other people like it's a whole new world. They won't cry on little things like they used to. And the reality of it strikes home and you know that you've been there too a few times. That's society. It fucks us all up.