Won’t get fooled again

“If humanity closed its heart to injustice, injustice would not have any way to slip into the world.” Louis-Claude de Saint-Martin

In the beginning was the word and you’ve tried to take that away.  As I fall I watch the strings float away, hovering above me, your voice moans from the depths of my soul.     Your voice is much more gentle now, almost soothing.  Tell me what I want to hear, tell me what…I want..to fear.  In slow motion I fall as what was previously blackness, is now the walls of the well I’ve always known.  The stars are fading but I still feel them inside my body, they will never disappear.  There is no end to this, no bottom within my sight.  Your voice like a drum pounds within me.  I reach for your words without a thought, but they are so, so empty.  I need to attach to something, but that’s only a fleeting idea.  Your face changes and you are gentler yet still you shout.  Always shouting because there is no need to communicate when everything around you is sleeping.  And you seem so gentle now, gentleness painted over the blackness of what you are.  The blackness no-one can see because they are only looking at their own projections, only looking at what they wish they were and have not the time or energy to become.   There is no longer any need to shout.  With the power you have to shift words to control any meaning, you really don’t even need to speak.  Words, like the pawns always solidified inside your mind, are a price tag, a commodity; malleable and abstract when you choose and solid and binding when convenient.  Your god hangs like a shadow above you, but you never have to look up when you own the definitions.  You really don’t even need to hold the strings.  But why can we never get far away from each other?  And maybe that’s just impossible when your hand is in everything.  Somehow they believe you.  And they believe you because they still think you exist outside of them.  They never learn.  Your voice is so gentle now, almost screaming for trust.  But I can’t do that.  I know the part of me you are.  I know it’s just the game that matters to you.  Even me, maybe there is a small part of you that sees me as something you could identify with, maybe I remind you of yourself as a boy, it doesn’t matter because you are so far up there, and I am so far down here and every second I’m down here, there is more money in your pocket isn’t there?  I can no longer be led by foolish voices pushing me in directions I don’t want to go.  Or false promises of hope and a little more for us a little less for you.  I see through your lies now.  Words have more meaning now but they have many sides and now I have the ability to see all of them. Although I can now exist outside of you and I can see purple slivers of light appearing before your previous blackness.  And I see a part of you question this, question yourself, but only for a second.  And I say in a whisper, a choice between evils is not a choice I am willing to make.  You shout through all the twisted words that I must make a choice and I look to the stars beaming from my heart and I laugh and look upon you as the sad pile of lost thoughts you are and in a whisper I let you know, things don’t have to be so small not in this dream of life that is the reality of all I see

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