Writing from an unmade bed
weary of the same four walls
wrapped in the same old pictures.
Why am I here?
Wandering up life’s mountain
weathered and crackling under
weak social preconceptions
What am I?
Worn out from institutions
wailing and waffling on;
wars on individuality.
Who am I?
Weakened from society’s chains
who would keep me on the beaten path
waiting for the answer
what will I be when I grow up?
We’re all in the same boat, they say.
Wrong, we’re split into factions
west and east; north and south
white and black – someone ask why?
Why are we here? What’s the point?
What is our objective?
We’re born into this giant globe
We should be the one’s to protect it…