Poetry
Mediocrity.
Kash Baloch·July 5, 2009·Original
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All of my childhood haunts of yesterday, have drifted, simply gone away. Forced to grow up in a world that refuses to let up, until my fickle heart is hopelessly fed up. If I am a prisoner here and I am not permanent, then why am I required to leave behind a superficial imprint? One of a life lived but unfulfilled, full of misery and swallowing pills. Colour me green as I stare into your life. Devoid of pain and devoid of strife. You are from a class above, restricted by nothing but the money that you love. You may indulge in the pleasures of the world, but it is my oyster and I am its pearl. I am not interested in tasting caviar from afar, as I can be introspective and still touch the stars. Superficiality has convoluted the earth causing us to truly forget its worth. Politicians persist in polluting with policies gone awry. Poverty prevails as orphaned children rightfully cry for parents that have died. Materialism malnourishes mortals into a meagre state, and still you stubbornly claim that money can buy you a worthy soul mate. Although money makes your world go round, I would rather centre on ideas that are much more profound. Like a medium, I enthral as I am aglow. I may stumble and fall, but always reap what I sow. I refuse to live a life so mundane, that I am forced to vacate just to escape. I am the master of my own domain, I have grabbed life by the reins, as I watch it fall back into shape.

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