Let them be like phones, Always wanted, uesd, accepted, remade, But constricted to a brick of code.
I’d rather be a dusty old book, With thousands of pages, thousands of words, Waiting for the Ink to be told.
To hold endless Ink in an Inkless world, To be opened, to be needed, In a world without need, a thoughtless expanse. To be flipped through, to be long-lived, Sending my Ink, my essence, to the deepest depths of the mind.
I’d rather be “false”, or even Because I was “Disproven”, Than to be a bright, softly glowing phone, Mindlessly switching from task to task, Waiting patiently, quietly, brainlessly, For their Inkless Puppeteers.
I’d rather look of ripped pages, and grimy wet mold, Than of pristine, ignorant metal. If I could be written with ink and mind, I’d rather be a dusty old book.
Let them be a sunny day, always loved appreciated, worshiped, admired, but normal to the naked eye.
I’d rather be a wayward hurricane, resisting the beautiful rays of the sun, like a repellent.
To have raged land with destruction, to be cold, to feel hated by everyone. To be depressing in every which way possible. Carrying the pain, the horror of thousands, for years and years to come.
I’d rather be ignored, and if not loathed by everything. Then to be a bright golden ball in the sky. Which everything looks up to, as if being the center of the galaxy. Having its power taken and used by others.
I’d rather cause grey storm clouds, then a bright blue sky. If I could stand alone, brave, and strong, I’d rather be a wayward hurricane.
Let them be as songbirds, Always singing, listened to, adored, But strapped to the safety of a tree
I’d rather be a snake Slithering on the forest floor Under the glimmering sun Hunting for the next prey to be mine
To live on my own, to hunt for myself, To be free, to be my own king To slither across branches No one but me carrying my future across my back Through forests, rivers, deserts, Never being held back by a cage
I’d rather be unseen In trees, weeds, tall grass, and under rocks Than to need to sing beautifully, Flying in flocks together, Where they’re raised, fed and captured By the selfish, human race
I’d rather sound of the hissing monster Than of beautiful, harmonus songs If i could slither alone, free, a king, I’d rather be a hated, lonely snake.
Let them be as dreams Always colorful, wonderful, euphoric, marvelous, admired But forgotten in time
I’d rather be a terrifying, disgusting nightmare Burrowed in the mind, like a tree’s roots Constantly evolving and reminiscent among the soul
To have made a hole in the wall To live, to be exposed to one’s magnificent thoughts Of questions posed to the nonexistent gods To be changed in the calm of the storm Carrying my will, my goal Beyond the unimaginable, into the unknown
I’d rather be feared, and if Then shunned by the mind Than to be a lovely-sublime dream Growing in numbers each night Where they’re praised, loved, and forgotten Through one’s short, fragile lifespan of the memory
I’d rather be remembered as revolting, petrifying Than a sweet, superb dream If I could be remembered, recalled and recollected I’d rather be a freakish, bizarre nightmare.
Let them be ants, dependent and defended, but without control of their life.
I’d rather be a long, disgusting roach, avoiding becoming a meal, like a brittle, predators looming over, sharp-taloned hawks.
To be crushed and keep walking, to survive, to play tag with death barely dodging its hands, the adrenaline-fueled high. To eat spoiled fruit and enjoy every sweet, syrupy bite, fueling my wings, my eyes. To fly away from dangers, barely still alive.
I am invisible when found I must hide again, while they feed on great bounties, ignoring the bodies of sisters fallen, forgotten by their comrades.
I’d rather be a horrifying, sickening creature, a vilified pest to those who give me name, than a nameless, privileged ant.
Identity Let them be as diamonds Always treasured, held, polished But trapped within the hold of man
I’d rather be a small, lumpy rock Sitting in the bank of a river, unbothered Feeling the gentle waves of the crystal clear water
To be safe from harm’s way, To live a peaceful life, Observing as the seasons pass To be showered by the daily rain, While carrying my wisdom, my thoughts As I ponder about the world amidst of the changing weather
I’d rather be eroded by the safe hands of nature And slowly sink away, Than to be a beautiful, sparkly diamond Collected in the mysterious cities Where they are auctioned, flaunted, then hidden
I’d rather be covered in unpleasant, green moss Than to be cleaned and polished daily If I could have eternal peace, I’d rather be a small, lumpy rock
Let them be a heart, Pumping off energy and life but fragile Needed and necessary for life
I’d rather be a strong, tough rock Surrounded by others like me To feel the embrace and love
To have learned and experienced life lessons, To feel, to know, to have experience To be pushed down and get back up again and again To feel like I can handle anything that comes my way To act like a tiger, strong and persistent Carrying my free, strong, and uncontainable soul across the rugged land
I'd rather be hurt and strong, Then to be protected and tend to everyone's beck and call Then to be untested to how much you can handle Then to be Lonely and used
I'd rather be hated and betrayed Then to be loved and kept by pity If I could stand tough and proud not waiting on the clock, I'd rather be a free, strong rock
If to be a mountain entails banishment from the world If my only companions will be the harsh wind and the frigid sleet Then so be it, for I will not hear their bitter remarks Their hatred will not phase me in the slightest
Let them embrace their lives as beaches Loved by many, Admired by all For they do not realize how blind they are, Jumping headfirst into the trap that lies before them The sand they so proudly boast, it will engulf them all The ones they look up to the most, wreck them With toys of plastic and boats of oil Yet they still look up to their attackers, are too far lost in their stardom to recognize abuse
I will not pity them, For they have thrust this fate upon themselves
I would rather watch from my snowy peaks that they despised the most As they continue to refuse my help, as if i would still offer it, After what they have done, they could not expect me to crumble To crumble, for them. I would've done it too, If only they had faced themselves
But they wouldn’t dare sacrifice their precious palms Their glorious waves and skies of blue Why, you may ask, would they clutch to their possessions as they fall further into the void? How could they be so stubborn to refuse salvation? For that, I do not have the answer
With them let me be a summer sun Always warm, bright, cheerful, sparkling, But slowly hiding beyond the sea
Alone I rather be a cold winter's night Glistening, like the heavenly bodies Illuminating the dark, eternal skies
To have broken the glass To be lost, to feel teared in to two different worlds, walking different paths Of endless memories To be confined to a world that's shattered, missing pieces Carrying part of my soul, my sound Trapped in a different universe
I rather be hidden, frightened of if they see Than to be a cold winter's night, Slowly freezing the warmth of the summer breeze Where there's life, love, and laughter Playing a joyful melody
If only I can be a cold winter's night and a summer sun Than be torn between sides If I could show myself that both sides are equally beautiful Then I'd rather be a beautiful summer sun and a gorgeous winter's night
IDENTITY Look at those beautiful butterflies adored by their beautiful pattern but prey to many
I'd rather be a ugly moth hiding in the dark of night but free to soar the night.
To be exposed to madness but to be mysterious free to fly without shackles to act on impulse and instict beyond the reachable and into the bizzare
I'd rather be ignored than be the topic of dicussion nurtured by others imprisioned in containers and raised by the greedy
To be ugly bage colors would be ideal than being a palet of colors If that means I can't stand alone That means I'd rather be a ugly colorless moth. -Dinosaur chicken nugget
Let them be as butterflies, always watered, fed, guarded, admired, but trapped in a small cage.
I’d rather be a big, hairy moth, fluttering in the night, like a gazelle frolicking in the vast, luscious Savannah.
To have escaped a dusty closet, to fly, to feel exposed to the chaos of the windy night sky. To glide in the breeze of an old city, carrying my wings, my spirit beyond the clutches of humans and into eternal forest.
I’d rather be disgusting, and if then swatted by everyone, than to be a gorgeous colorful butterfly, festering in cocoons in a small cage, where they’re admired, handled, and bred by selfish, human hands.
I’d rather feed on dusty old sweaters than from beautiful, fragrant lilies If I could fly, high and free, I’d rather be a big, ugly moth.
Let them be perfect pretty puppets, an object; adored, maintained, put on a pedestal, but kept under the strings of their master.
I’d rather have my own performance, free to soar high, like a bird gliding through any unknown terrain, with the wind behind him.
To truly feel like breaking through the surface of the heavy water, flying through restriction itself, allowing everything to break free from its cage. To fall into a deep sleep of freedom, my soul frolickling around as it pleases.
I’d rather hear my own voice filling the emptiness, than to be a puppet on a string, with crowds of strangers and not even recognizing my own voice. Where as a puppet, i would be forced a song in the wrong tune, and clothes that don’t fit right.
I’d rather be struggling to even get a yellowed, dim lamp light, than an artificial, blinding white light that bleaches my true colors away. If I could keep my persona, my light, I’d rather have my own empty performance.
Perfect: Let them be the perfect store bought diamonds Admired,desired,and sought after But trapped in their cases
I’d rather be flawed like a washed up stone Left on the beach Sinking into the sand
To be left alone and on my own To feel as free as the wind And the crashing seas around me To be carried throughout the seas like a seed
I’d rather be ignored So I can continue to the unexplored And be my own lord Than to be confined to a setting Branded and owned Picked,petted and handled By the rough and cold touch of those greedy human hands
I’d rather be flawed, washed up and dull Than admired for nothing more than my shine If I could be free than let me be A washed up stone For eventually I will make my way back into the sea Drifting toward the unexplored So let them be perfect For I’d rather be flawed. -scout
Let them be water Plentiful, loved, needed to survive But wasted, taken for granted Recycled over and over again
I’d rather be fire Burning brightly, spreading warmth Bringing people together at a bonfire Singing and laughing together
To be free, uncontainable To cause destruction, to burn, no barriers in my path That prevent my existence Spreading, free, multiplying Unable to be stopped by a mere drop of water
I’d rather give people warmth On a cold winter night, than Provide a place to swim during summer Where they’re polluted, thrown trash into, By dirty, greedy humans
Instead of being needed and admired I’d rather be free, uncontrollable fire
Time: Let them be like pictures Taped up,Hang around and boxed up But always trapped in timed
I’d rather be a thought Free,forgotten,only for a period of time But never trapped for to long in the mind
I come and go as I please Never waiting for my release I flow like the seas And travel with the breeze
Never confined to the chains of time But always freed from a certain frame of mind I never expire and I can’t be put out like fire I change as I please with no restraints around me
Let them be like pictures Left behind trapped in a frame we call time Left up in the attic with all the dusty old cobwebs Let them be confined to time
I’d rather be a thought Free to be what I want Like a wonderful breeze that comes and goes
Let them be the melody always praised, listened to, admired, and sung. but depicted as clones in the audience's head.
I'd rather be the low, ugly base line, as simple as can be, like a bug, flying around the open sky.
To have lived in the oceans of deep, like a whale wallowing in below, to feel exposed to the vast, eternal, sea, it is where I can be as rash as the base line, my soul, is free.
I'd rather be ignored, and if then, hated by everyone than to be the bright, beautiful, melody, dancing in harmony with one another, and then beamed by the everlasting spotlight by the listeners that seek.
I'd rather be heard as dark, simple, shadow than of gleaming, colorful lights. If I could stay low, yet free, I'd rather be the ugly baseline, as simple as can be.
let them be as tuna Large, beautiful, strong but always being hunted,
I'd rather be a minnow, small, fast, and free, swimming around without a care, so small no one tries to catch me,
I'd rather be ignored, then always have to be looking behind my back, let the tuna be sought after,
Let them be as lobsters, expensive, tasty, red,
I'd rather be a hermit crab, small inexpensive and not sought after, the only purpose to find a new house once in a while, while the purpose of a lobster's to not be captured,
even with their fancy Claws and Tails there are still Hunted, but as a hermit crab with your small shell, you will be safe, you're only worries are food and small children looking at you,
I'd rather be small and insignificant than be a large Target.
Let them lounge at home, On the couch, in bed, relaxed and comfortable, but strapped to failure.
I’d rather be training, up at the crack of dawn, and down past dusk. Not even thinking of getting out of the pool, to be the guy on the couch.
Always giving 100%, always pushing past my struggles, always working to be better, but never giving in, because I don't want to be that guy at home. I’d rather be laying in the pool in exhaustion, Than be laying in bed in relaxation
To outlast my competition, to touch the wall first, to win and be successful, that is when hard work gets its payday, and when the lazy guy gets nothing.
They think they're getting a good night sleep, when the only thing they're sleeping on is my work ethic. If they're okay with relaxing on the couch, They better be okay with finishing behind me.
Medals, trophies, and plaques are won at the championships, but the champion is crowned before that, they're crowned when they arise at 5 AM to work, while the runner-up snoozes at home.
Let them be butterflies Symbols of beauty and grace Loved by the masses and shielded from the harshness of the world Being known for their beauty And being subjected by their attractiveness
I’d rather be a fat, ugly caterpillar Gluttonous and underdeveloped Waiting for my peak, for my prime I’d rather eat weeds and grow Than fly with wings of captivity Stared at by mobs Reaching their grubby, greedy hands towards me
I prefer being overlooked to being captured Full of weeds, than of sickly sweet nectar Drowning the truth with its golden glow
Living with the sunlight shining down, burning you Whereas I am shaded by milkweed leaves, and I am safe My stripes are called ugly, and I fade Your spots are deemed exotic, magnificent, and pure But you never leave the spotlight You never achieve freedom
Your delicacy is that of a diamond Exhibited, but sold Your beauty is incomparable But your hope dwindles
I would rather be a fat, ugly caterpillar Free and ignored Than a beautiful butterfly Loved but suffering
Let them be as pets Always fed hydrated protected and praised But harnessed to a back yard.
I’d rather be a stray, ugly dog Eating trash from the dump, like a rat Climbing over tall, wet boxes.
To have broken through unopened trash can lids, To live , to feel exposed to the endless amounts of unopened food. To feel alive with the morning breeze blowing across my face, my body, and my tail.
I’d rather be hidden, and if Then avoided by humans, Than to be a nice-looking mannequin, Found in groups around an expensive store, Where they’re gazed, touched, and purloined By avaricious, human hands.
I’d rather smell of a green, sewage scent Than a sweet smelling rose. If I could be solo but powerful and free, I’d rather be a stray ugly dog.
Endless Ink
ReplyDeleteLet them be like phones,
Always wanted, uesd, accepted, remade,
But constricted to a brick of code.
I’d rather be a dusty old book,
With thousands of pages, thousands of words,
Waiting for the Ink to be told.
To hold endless Ink in an Inkless world,
To be opened, to be needed,
In a world without need, a thoughtless expanse.
To be flipped through, to be long-lived,
Sending my Ink, my essence,
to the deepest depths of the mind.
I’d rather be “false”, or even
Because I was “Disproven”,
Than to be a bright, softly glowing phone,
Mindlessly switching from task to task,
Waiting patiently, quietly, brainlessly,
For their Inkless Puppeteers.
I’d rather look of ripped pages, and grimy wet mold,
Than of pristine, ignorant metal.
If I could be written with ink and mind,
I’d rather be a dusty old book.
-By Yours Truly,
Jesus 2
Thunderous Night, by: Tom
ReplyDeleteLet them be a sunny day,
always loved appreciated, worshiped, admired,
but normal to the naked eye.
I’d rather be a wayward hurricane,
resisting the beautiful rays of the sun, like a repellent.
To have raged land with destruction,
to be cold, to feel hated by everyone.
To be depressing in every which way possible.
Carrying the pain, the horror of thousands,
for years and years to come.
I’d rather be ignored, and if not
loathed by everything.
Then to be a bright golden ball in the sky.
Which everything looks up to,
as if being the center of the galaxy.
Having its power taken and used by others.
I’d rather cause grey storm clouds,
then a bright blue sky.
If I could stand alone, brave, and strong,
I’d rather be a wayward hurricane.
Identity
ReplyDeleteLet them be as songbirds,
Always singing, listened to, adored,
But strapped to the safety of a tree
I’d rather be a snake
Slithering on the forest floor
Under the glimmering sun
Hunting for the next prey to be mine
To live on my own, to hunt for myself,
To be free, to be my own king
To slither across branches
No one but me carrying my future across my back
Through forests, rivers, deserts,
Never being held back by a cage
I’d rather be unseen
In trees, weeds, tall grass, and under rocks
Than to need to sing beautifully,
Flying in flocks together,
Where they’re raised, fed and captured
By the selfish, human race
I’d rather sound of the hissing monster
Than of beautiful, harmonus songs
If i could slither alone, free, a king,
I’d rather be a hated, lonely snake.
-Babatunde
Let them be as dreams
ReplyDeleteAlways colorful, wonderful, euphoric, marvelous, admired
But forgotten in time
I’d rather be a terrifying, disgusting nightmare
Burrowed in the mind, like a tree’s roots
Constantly evolving and reminiscent among the soul
To have made a hole in the wall
To live, to be exposed to one’s magnificent thoughts
Of questions posed to the nonexistent gods
To be changed in the calm of the storm
Carrying my will, my goal
Beyond the unimaginable, into the unknown
I’d rather be feared, and if
Then shunned by the mind
Than to be a lovely-sublime dream
Growing in numbers each night
Where they’re praised, loved, and forgotten
Through one’s short, fragile lifespan of the memory
I’d rather be remembered as revolting, petrifying
Than a sweet, superb dream
If I could be remembered, recalled and recollected
I’d rather be a freakish, bizarre nightmare.
-B.I.
Stinky
ReplyDeleteby Peter Griffin
Let them be ants,
dependent and defended,
but without control of their life.
I’d rather be a long, disgusting roach,
avoiding becoming a meal, like a brittle,
predators looming over, sharp-taloned hawks.
To be crushed and keep walking,
to survive, to play tag with death
barely dodging its hands, the adrenaline-fueled high.
To eat spoiled fruit and enjoy every sweet, syrupy bite,
fueling my wings, my eyes.
To fly away from dangers, barely still alive.
I am invisible when found
I must hide again,
while they feed on great bounties,
ignoring the bodies of sisters fallen,
forgotten by their comrades.
I’d rather be a horrifying, sickening creature,
a vilified pest to those who give me name,
than a nameless, privileged ant.
Identity
ReplyDeleteLet them be as diamonds
Always treasured, held, polished
But trapped within the hold of man
I’d rather be a small, lumpy rock
Sitting in the bank of a river, unbothered
Feeling the gentle waves of the crystal clear water
To be safe from harm’s way,
To live a peaceful life,
Observing as the seasons pass
To be showered by the daily rain,
While carrying my wisdom, my thoughts
As I ponder about the world amidst of the changing weather
I’d rather be eroded by the safe hands of nature
And slowly sink away,
Than to be a beautiful, sparkly diamond
Collected in the mysterious cities
Where they are auctioned, flaunted, then hidden
I’d rather be covered in unpleasant, green moss
Than to be cleaned and polished daily
If I could have eternal peace,
I’d rather be a small, lumpy rock
By Fork
Tough
ReplyDeleteLet them be a heart,
Pumping off energy and life but fragile
Needed and necessary for life
I’d rather be a strong, tough rock
Surrounded by others like me
To feel the embrace and love
To have learned and experienced life lessons,
To feel, to know, to have experience
To be pushed down and get back up again and again
To feel like I can handle anything that comes my way
To act like a tiger, strong and persistent
Carrying my free, strong, and uncontainable soul across the rugged land
I'd rather be hurt and strong,
Then to be protected and tend to everyone's beck and call
Then to be untested to how much you can handle
Then to be Lonely and used
I'd rather be hated and betrayed
Then to be loved and kept by pity
If I could stand tough and proud not waiting on the clock,
I'd rather be a free, strong rock
-k
Identity ( alternately titled "Sweet Desolation"
ReplyDeleteIf to be a mountain entails banishment from the world
If my only companions will be the harsh wind and the frigid sleet
Then so be it, for I will not hear their bitter remarks
Their hatred will not phase me in the slightest
Let them embrace their lives as beaches
Loved by many,
Admired by all
For they do not realize how blind they are,
Jumping headfirst into the trap that lies before them
The sand they so proudly boast, it will engulf them all
The ones they look up to the most, wreck them
With toys of plastic and boats of oil
Yet they still look up to their attackers,
are too far lost in their stardom to recognize abuse
I will not pity them,
For they have thrust this fate upon themselves
I would rather watch from my snowy peaks that they despised the most
As they continue to refuse my help, as if i would still offer it,
After what they have done, they could not expect me to crumble
To crumble, for them.
I would've done it too,
If only they had faced themselves
But they wouldn’t dare sacrifice their precious palms
Their glorious waves and skies of blue
Why, you may ask, would they clutch to their possessions as they fall further into the void?
How could they be so stubborn to refuse salvation?
For that,
I do not have the answer
- Comically_Cosmic
Identity
ReplyDeleteWith them let me be a summer sun
Always warm, bright, cheerful, sparkling,
But slowly hiding beyond the sea
Alone I rather be a cold winter's night
Glistening, like the heavenly bodies
Illuminating the dark, eternal skies
To have broken the glass
To be lost, to feel teared in to two different worlds, walking different paths
Of endless memories
To be confined to a world that's shattered, missing pieces
Carrying part of my soul, my sound
Trapped in a different universe
I rather be hidden, frightened of if they see
Than to be a cold winter's night,
Slowly freezing the warmth of the summer breeze
Where there's life, love, and laughter
Playing a joyful melody
If only I can be a cold winter's night and a summer sun
Than be torn between sides
If I could show myself that both sides are equally beautiful
Then I'd rather be a beautiful summer sun and a gorgeous winter's night
By-MCRX
IDENTITY
ReplyDeleteLook at those beautiful butterflies
adored by their beautiful pattern
but prey to many
I'd rather be a ugly moth
hiding in the dark of night
but free to soar the night.
To be exposed to madness
but to be mysterious
free to fly without shackles
to act on impulse and instict
beyond the reachable and into the bizzare
I'd rather be ignored
than be the topic of dicussion
nurtured by others
imprisioned in containers
and raised by the greedy
To be ugly bage colors would be ideal
than being a palet of colors
If that means I can't stand alone
That means I'd rather be a ugly colorless moth.
-Dinosaur chicken nugget
Identity
ReplyDeleteLet them be as butterflies,
always watered, fed, guarded, admired,
but trapped in a small cage.
I’d rather be a big, hairy moth,
fluttering in the night, like a gazelle
frolicking in the vast, luscious Savannah.
To have escaped a dusty closet,
to fly, to feel exposed to the chaos
of the windy night sky.
To glide in the breeze of an old city,
carrying my wings, my spirit
beyond the clutches of humans and into eternal forest.
I’d rather be disgusting, and if
then swatted by everyone,
than to be a gorgeous colorful butterfly,
festering in cocoons in a small cage,
where they’re admired, handled, and bred
by selfish, human hands.
I’d rather feed on dusty old sweaters
than from beautiful, fragrant lilies
If I could fly, high and free,
I’d rather be a big, ugly moth.
I see trees of green
ReplyDeleteRed roses too
I see them bloom
For me and you
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
-Post Malone
Chosen Identity
ReplyDeleteBy: Boar Vessel 500-600 B.C.
Let them be perfect pretty puppets,
an object; adored, maintained, put on a pedestal,
but kept under the strings of their master.
I’d rather have my own performance,
free to soar high, like a bird
gliding through any unknown terrain, with the wind behind him.
To truly feel like breaking through the surface of the heavy water,
flying through restriction itself,
allowing everything to break free from its cage.
To fall into a deep sleep of freedom,
my soul frolickling around as it pleases.
I’d rather hear my own voice filling the emptiness,
than to be a puppet on a string, with crowds of strangers
and not even recognizing my own voice.
Where as a puppet, i would be forced a song in the wrong tune,
and clothes that don’t fit right.
I’d rather be struggling to even get a yellowed, dim lamp light,
than an artificial, blinding white light that bleaches my true colors away.
If I could keep my persona, my light,
I’d rather have my own empty performance.
⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣶⣶ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⣀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⠿⠿⠻⠿⠿⠟⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⢰⣹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣭⣷⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠤⢄⠀⠀⠀⠠⣿⣿⣷⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿
Delete-Post Malone's reaction
Perfect:
ReplyDeleteLet them be the perfect store bought diamonds
Admired,desired,and sought after
But trapped in their cases
I’d rather be flawed like a washed up stone
Left on the beach
Sinking into the sand
To be left alone and on my own
To feel as free as the wind
And the crashing seas around me
To be carried throughout the seas like a seed
I’d rather be ignored
So I can continue to the unexplored
And be my own lord
Than to be confined to a setting
Branded and owned
Picked,petted and handled
By the rough and cold touch of those greedy human hands
I’d rather be flawed, washed up and dull
Than admired for nothing more than my shine
If I could be free than let me be
A washed up stone
For eventually I will make my way back into the sea
Drifting toward the unexplored
So let them be perfect
For I’d rather be flawed.
-scout
Element
ReplyDeleteBy kapeeps
Let them be water
Plentiful, loved, needed to survive
But wasted, taken for granted
Recycled over and over again
I’d rather be fire
Burning brightly, spreading warmth
Bringing people together at a bonfire
Singing and laughing together
To be free, uncontainable
To cause destruction, to burn, no barriers in my path
That prevent my existence
Spreading, free, multiplying
Unable to be stopped by a mere drop of water
I’d rather give people warmth
On a cold winter night, than
Provide a place to swim during summer
Where they’re polluted, thrown trash into,
By dirty, greedy humans
Instead of being needed and admired
I’d rather be free, uncontrollable fire
ReplyDeleteTime:
Let them be like pictures
Taped up,Hang around and boxed up
But always trapped in timed
I’d rather be a thought
Free,forgotten,only for a period of time
But never trapped for to long in the mind
I come and go as I please
Never waiting for my release
I flow like the seas
And travel with the breeze
Never confined to the chains of time
But always freed from a certain frame of mind
I never expire and I can’t be put out like fire
I change as I please with no restraints around me
Let them be like pictures
Left behind trapped in a frame we call time
Left up in the attic with all the dusty old cobwebs
Let them be confined to time
I’d rather be a thought
Free to be what I want
Like a wonderful breeze that comes and goes
Let them be the melody
ReplyDeletealways praised, listened to, admired, and sung.
but depicted as clones in the audience's head.
I'd rather be the low, ugly base line,
as simple as can be, like a bug,
flying around the open sky.
To have lived in the oceans of deep,
like a whale wallowing in below,
to feel exposed to the vast, eternal, sea,
it is where I can be as rash as
the base line, my soul, is free.
I'd rather be ignored, and if then,
hated by everyone
than to be the bright, beautiful, melody,
dancing in harmony with one another,
and then beamed by the everlasting spotlight
by the listeners that seek.
I'd rather be heard as dark, simple, shadow
than of gleaming, colorful lights.
If I could stay low, yet free,
I'd rather be the ugly baseline, as simple as can be.
As a minnow, as a hermit crab
ReplyDeletelet them be as tuna
Large, beautiful, strong
but always being hunted,
I'd rather be a minnow,
small, fast, and free,
swimming around without a care,
so small no one tries to catch me,
I'd rather be ignored,
then always have to be looking behind my back,
let the tuna be sought after,
Let them be as lobsters,
expensive, tasty, red,
I'd rather be a hermit crab,
small inexpensive and not sought after,
the only purpose to find a new house once in a while,
while the purpose of a lobster's to not be captured,
even with their fancy Claws and Tails there are still Hunted,
but as a hermit crab with your small shell, you will be safe,
you're only worries are food and small children looking at you,
I'd rather be small and insignificant than be a large Target.
5 AM
ReplyDeleteby Booger MacFarland
Let them lounge at home,
On the couch, in bed, relaxed and comfortable,
but strapped to failure.
I’d rather be training,
up at the crack of dawn,
and down past dusk.
Not even thinking of getting out of the pool,
to be the guy on the couch.
Always giving 100%,
always pushing past my struggles,
always working to be better,
but never giving in,
because I don't want to be that guy at home.
I’d rather be laying in the pool in exhaustion,
Than be laying in bed in relaxation
To outlast my competition,
to touch the wall first,
to win and be successful,
that is when hard work gets its payday,
and when the lazy guy gets nothing.
They think they're getting a good night sleep,
when the only thing they're sleeping on is my work ethic.
If they're okay with relaxing on the couch,
They better be okay with finishing behind me.
Medals, trophies, and plaques are won at the championships,
but the champion is crowned before that,
they're crowned when they arise at 5 AM to work,
while the runner-up snoozes at home.
Identity
ReplyDeleteLet them be butterflies
Symbols of beauty and grace
Loved by the masses and shielded from the harshness of the world
Being known for their beauty
And being subjected by their attractiveness
I’d rather be a fat, ugly caterpillar
Gluttonous and underdeveloped
Waiting for my peak, for my prime
I’d rather eat weeds and grow
Than fly with wings of captivity
Stared at by mobs
Reaching their grubby, greedy hands towards me
I prefer being overlooked to being captured
Full of weeds, than of sickly sweet nectar
Drowning the truth with its golden glow
Living with the sunlight shining down, burning you
Whereas I am shaded by milkweed leaves, and I am safe
My stripes are called ugly, and I fade
Your spots are deemed exotic, magnificent, and pure
But you never leave the spotlight
You never achieve freedom
Your delicacy is that of a diamond
Exhibited, but sold
Your beauty is incomparable
But your hope dwindles
I would rather be a fat, ugly caterpillar
Free and ignored
Than a beautiful butterfly
Loved but suffering
- kohn
Identity
ReplyDelete-Meh
Let them be as pets
Always fed hydrated protected and praised
But harnessed to a back yard.
I’d rather be a stray, ugly dog
Eating trash from the dump, like a rat
Climbing over tall, wet boxes.
To have broken through unopened trash can lids,
To live , to feel exposed to the endless amounts of unopened food.
To feel alive with the morning breeze blowing
across my face, my body, and my tail.
I’d rather be hidden, and if
Then avoided by humans,
Than to be a nice-looking mannequin,
Found in groups around an expensive store,
Where they’re gazed, touched, and purloined
By avaricious, human hands.
I’d rather smell of a green, sewage scent
Than a sweet smelling rose.
If I could be solo but powerful and free,
I’d rather be a stray ugly dog.