Perception

I'm selfish, they're telling I'm taking too much

I'm helpless, trying to speak but I always get hushed

falling down, asking for help but making no sound

living through emptiness six feet under the ground

They offer their condolences, for all of the dreams they had murdered

but the past had passed, what used to be yelled is now murmered

whispers are left to die on the streets, where words are knives

and the never ending lies is what they call their lives

I'm vulgar, clinging to a piece of thought

and by the urban hunters I am being sought

they hung a picture me, that they had perceived

they tore the skin, and realized they were deceived

Not all who glitter, are happy souls

not all that glitters, is gold

wildfire will kill a forest but never the trees

they will hang until a gust of wind, brings them back their seeds