The Price of Idealism
By atia
Sometimes I wish I'd take ill So that I could Just lie in bed, Not move But watch the world go by With a heavy head So that nothing made sense. There'd be no reason to cry, No reason to bawl at the immoral Or try oh so hard To be politically incorrect. Little left-winger me Could just lie still And not will the world to rise. Sleeping Biases would not have to wake Who'd know if I was real or fake? When I dont know Where I stand myself Underneath the wanting skies. Lying down would be a better choice. The winds wouldn't hit as hard. And if no one ever understood, I would not know And I would never care. Perhaps more of me should go numb, Till the bitter tongue loses the tart, And I smile without a purpose And laugh without a purpose And dream without a purpose And I, am no longer wanting.I could not reveal any more of me... there seems to be nothing left.. Written February 17th, 2002 © on Feb 17 2002 12:20 PM PST 18 • 0 • 1
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"Sometimes I wish I'd take ill..."