The Death Of Conservatism
You tried to defy the society that you hated, in many more ways than one
So you took to doing things differently, and this immediately set you apart
And everything was alright
But in your isolation, things slowly began falling apart...
Too afraid to step out of the boxes you created for yourself,
You are dying a slow and painful death
Too afraid to call for help, you are slowly bleeding, and nobody knows it
You say you want noone to know your pain; that noone understands.
But you know that you need help nonetheless
Your silent pleas go unnoticed by those who cannot understand you,
And disregarded by the few who do.
And there are few; too few in fact.
Your calls for solitude are met, but deep down, you know that it isn't really what you want.
What you really want is acceptance, peace, care, and the freedom to be yourself.
What you don't realise is that they are all there, waiting for you to break out and take them.
But you are too afraid to do so; too afraid, probably too afraid of everything, real or imagined.
And so you try and make safeguards to protect yourself from any pain that may come your way.
But there will be pain, and it will have to come, inevitably.
Too afraid to kiss, for fear of being rejected
Too afraid to touch, for fear of being burnt.
Too afraid to leave the sanctuary of your castle, for fear of being hurt.
Too afraid to grab what it is that you want, you waste away in the caves of your own making,
Slowly dying a painful death in self-imposed solitude and loneliness.
There is so much you could live for, but you refuse to take up the challenge;
Rise up and claim what you could have.
Instead, you paint the world in a dark shade of fear, regret, and the true brokenness of hope.
Staunchly repelling any contrary doctrines to that of your own.
But that is not all there is.
There is light, happiness, and freedom, if you know where to find them. .
But, sadly, you refuse to take them.
Even in this atmosphere of futility, you continue onwards, missing out on so many things that could so easily be yours.
You batter yourself for the mistakes you made, but forget that nobody is perfect.
And that everyone is meant to make mistakes.
We are all made of sin, but this sin does not necessarily overwhelm us,
We are not all evil, hoping to destroy you.
Yet you cannot see the righteousness of this.
So in the end, you will die, starved of true human contact, and the warmth of loving relationships.
You will die, knowing that you could have had it all, and regretting that you didn't.
Life is a battle, and life can be hell. But the joy is in fighting the battle, and succeeding with the help of others, against all insurmountable odds…
Hopefully you can see that before it is too late.
And the blood of life flows out of your veins, into the desolate sands of time.