Lost Places Lapsed Old Chair Building Mold Moss

Your thoughts are worthless when they have come from a background filled with no understanding. The knowledge you wish to create gets washed away with this incessant need to fill the room with noise.

The vinyl in the corner of my room plays the evidence of my worth, where is yours? Four broken records and some glue you have used to try and put the pieces back together.

Then you have the audacity to call me stupid? To tell me, I don’t know what I am talking about, when I have done this since the beginning of time. I have succeeded but I am still growing, have you? Or are you still living with that shattered dream you created when you were young. Who will be your next play thing? What will be on your mind tomorrow?

You take the time to tell everyone else they are wrong, when you think you can prove it, yet you choose to throw the crown to the ground when it has been handed to you with such ease.
Where is your golden throne? Where are your diamonds?

I have learnt new tricks; I have listened when the gods have spoken to me, but you choose to spin away from them. You turn your nose up; roll your eyes and tell everyone that they are insignificant. Yet they hold a place above you, they have the power you wish to possess.

Maybe next time the Kings and Queens of this world will leave you to grovel in the streets with the rest of the peasants; for only scraps.
What will you do when they no longer come to aid you?

Maybe you will make it, but only luck will guide you now.

Photo: https://www.maxpixel.net/

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