Picture

The anxiety is bruising my chest with the hughes
of painting short breath
Because I find it strikingly disturbing that we are taking choice for granted
The minute we stop questioning authority is when we lose our humanity
Don't be afraid to step outside that cardboard box they sold your soul in called assimilation
Remember that you have a voice to yell
not fortune cookies for eyes, there isn't a set destiny here
Do something if you wanna see change
The picture isn't always black and white, So try to see those greys make us special
The fact that we don't know sometimes prove that we have thought
A hung jury proves deliberation
A trap can only produce strategy
And this piece is fruit for thought
Sorry if this seems like a pointless rant
But I'm letting my thoughts walk on broken glass not eggshells