spend as much time inside your head as you do on the outside
posting to remind the world — “I’m alive!” fleeting moments of gratification that distort the reality of life I do not speak of a reality of strife but one rife with constant suppression of self and the elaborateness of palaces within the mind palaces I cannot find outside or maybe they hide and shew forth themselves to those of worthy hides
Solidified in history, a beacon of time immemorial, a time troops rallied, a time cries were background music, a time children guarded the villages, as their fathers went to the frontlines, Martyr.
History recalls the time the tide swung in our favor, blood shed, one of ours, heads bowed, brows filled with sweat, eyes reddened with determination, a thirst for blood, a man for a man, a whole nation for a man, spurred by a dead man, Martyr.
We marched through their streets, chanting your name, doing things history books would summarize as ‘war’, their wives, kids, all means to an end, to earn a dead man a title he is too dead to celebrate, now and forever martyrized, nothing more than a pawn, Our Martyr.
The only things the depressed fail to detach from is depression
If depression was a parable, the depressed are promised eternal life, since, salvation is a gift for detached souls, detachment from worldly things, detachment from oneself.
The only things the depressed fail to detach from is depression, and a lack of ignorance, and some form of crutch, maybe alcohol, or spontaneous tears, all for the sake of wetting one’s eyes.
The idea of further existence might be a hard sell to the depressed, if we do accept the sales pitch, we might be a lot less depressed, caressed in the knowledge that life is ours, and ours is eternity.
But to know the end of something, is the end of everything, no drive, no will, no depression, no detachment, no eternity.
No happiness without sadness Else, how would one differentiate the two Happiness is appreciated when we’re sad Sadness is understood when we’re happy Like the seasons, they come Like the seasons, they pass