World of Delusion

It’s all a lie, was from the very beginning

When you were just learning to spread them wings, jumping out of your mother’s nest

Everyone telling you to work hard and get that money, buy your freedom

Like freedom is purchased, isn’t freedom a state of mind

Why is he crying in the Rolls Royce, drinking and abusing drugs the whole night

Why is she crying in the mansion, thought that ended when she moved neighbourhoods

Trapped in your own skin, a prisoner of your own consciousness

An inmate in life cells, subjected to supervision and exhortation

Indulging in extravagance in an effort to feel superior and better, it only attracted the wrong people

With them came the wrong choices, delusions

Marry from your own tribe, live happily ever after

The neighbor’s son heed the wisdom, now rests in the grave

A beautiful wedding, strangled the wife soon after

The mob took it upon themselves, rendered justice

Sombre mood at the graveyard, the village in mourning

Which one is a lunatic, the one clad in dirty attire talking to himself in the streets or the well dressed man laughing at him for talking to himself

Maybe we are all sick, the whole world deranged

More psycho wards needed, not just for the patient but for the doctor too

The boss too, everyone is sick

Always quick to judge, now in dilemma

Who do you crucify, God or Satan.

12 thoughts on “World of Delusion

  1. Beautifully written my friend. Appalachia has been plagued with opioid addiction. Some because of chronic pain due to injuries on the job. My people work very hard. But the drug companies lied. They said that there would be no addiction if the pain was real. Now we have overdoses on a daily basis and taxpayers are the ones paying to fix the problem while the drug companies get richer.

    Liked by 1 person

          1. I believe you a good man, and if you believe in Trump, then must have some good attributes in him. I can only wish him the best, and maybe he should forget about the obstacles and just concentrate in working foe the Americans. Let people judge him by his job.

            Like

  2. The image persists: One day, when I was walking along, going back to work, and in an Asperger’s -induced reverie, a teenager, riding in the back of a pick-up, quite naturally began laughing and shaking his head. Fast forward, fifteen years, and the same man is walking the streets of a reservation border town, in alcohol-induced stupour, perhaps remembering those carefree days as a teen-or perhaps not remembering anything. As for me, I’m still here, and more in control of my Aspberger’s, now that I know what it is.

    Liked by 1 person

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