A poem about an invisible, useless, over-dramatic rebellion. That's about it. Yes, Quizony, as much of an angel you are, it's still the ugly truth. I'm not going to sugar coat my description with untrue details.
I don't really like it when I feel like people are in control
over me and my life,
So I rebel.
But then I wonder,
Should I have done it?
What if things go crashing down like thunder?
What if lightning strikes me?
Would it be worth all this horrible strife?
I mean, I have control over my life…
Don't I?
I feel like a warrior with power.
I feel like I'm fighting for what's right.
But will I ever realize that there's no reason for the fight?
For the silent fight.
For the tiny whimpers pounding the inside of me.
Traveling up my spine,
Bone-chilling.
Pulsing through my veins,
Like radioactive waves.
Bring it on.
There's no point in going back now.
I won't bow down.
I promise you I'll be strong forever.
And yet the funny thing is,
It's all invisible inside my brain.
It's like make-believe against my feelings.
Except
It'll never
stop.
