The past is behind us. But somehow we allow it to control our every step and move. We let our past distort our thoughts and views. So in return we point fingers and assume while we accuse. Use our past to justify the people we abuse. We grow up to demand and oppress. Swear to our creators that we're nothing like the rest. Look up to our idols who are supposedly the best. Idolize them and never prepare for the test. By the time we have the chance to make it, we are all ready changed it, doesn't really matter. Then our heart shatters. No matter how you're doing people are going to chatter. To busy trying to prove something we don't see the ladders. We fake a smile and pretend to Hollywood actors. Negligent of all the factors. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger. Or that's what they tend to sell you. Invisible chains telling you never rebel. Seems to me like there's fate here. Fear in the eyes lead to selective hearing in each and every ear. Controlling our thoughts from who we love to what we wear. Kill our brothers and sisters all alike but we never seem to care. We talk about the light but we only pursue the glare. Selective in what we share. Share disease before we share our food, then see a person sick but won't ask them if their okay. The shirt off our back? No way! We say we aren't racist but we think that's always them and not us. But there's not a soul we wouldn't kill if some stranger said our friend wanted to kill us. So every single day we live like kings, we ask society to provide and stop giving us things. We use Google and Bing to provide us the information. Never questioning where the information is from. Who is feeding us? Who is lying though? Where is the supposed conflict coming from? The rich are starting the war, middle class are fighting them and the poor are affected by the consequences. We tend to put up these financial fences while we dream of Beamers, Bentley and Benz's. Go through our whole life not wondering where our grade school friend is. Never thought of hate being the same thing as love. We stare at the bottom before looking above. When is enough, enough?

Andrew KrigsmanComment