Inheritance

In this collective insanity, I see beauty being burned and wasted, all the time. I see line after line of needlessly broken ties. Homeless, hopeless hearts that think breaking one more connection, running from one more place will make the pain go away.

We don’t see — we’re only acting like we were taught. Brought up.

We’re only isolating ourselves because we never learned how to hold on. We only thought of constant departures became we have no home at all. And no definition for what it might be like to have one, after all.

We’re driving to our death at a speed that is unbearable. But all the windows are up, and we’re so sealed in that we don’t think we feel the effects of it. So accustomed to our constructed misery; we can’t even face reality.

So like panicked animals in cages, we tear ourselves and each other apart. We’re bathed in our own blood, trying so desperately to be the strongest one. To survive the night. To somehow win out in an already lost fight.

And whoever stands at the end will still have bars across their skin.
The masters never intended to unlock the door.
Why did we think this fighting would work?

If we could ban together, we could see through the game. We could find ways. We could survive another day. We could be stronger, smarter, more alive. But it’d mean setting aside everything. And we’re so well bred to be so strongly self-identified that we can’t imagine that compromise.

So, in the end, I suppose we’ll lose. And the masters will lose, too, when the world caves in.
Waiting it out will just mean more extinction.

Oh well, right?

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