Let us drop our false pretenses
The mannerisms, words, thoughts,
That we know we stole.
They are naught but empty defenses
That a cattle society adopts,
To cover up it's lack of control.
That a cattle society adopts,
To cover up it's lack of control.
Let us stop uttering sentences
That mean little, and matter not,
Simply to fill a hole.
That mean little, and matter not,
Simply to fill a hole.
Its time we sought with our own senses,
To think and live, as only we ought;
Such is the destiny of our soul.
To think and live, as only we ought;
Such is the destiny of our soul.
(This poem is dedicated to Smriti, my fiancee and best friend)
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