Society’s Numbers

Starting a day full of repeated patterns and connections

Ends in a sigh as I am only reduced to a plain-faced number

In a sea of already condemned equations that society has placed on us

Our lives seem like nothing special

We are toyed into thinking that our status means nothing,

Our achievements mean nothing,

Our lives mean nothing

The media feeds off this desolation by pouring conflicting truths and lies

We take for granted

It forces us into forcing our way onto others

Climbing the crumbling stairs they built for us

This competition only has the corrupt and soon to be corrupted

And I ask, who’s fault is that?

Should I stand on a stage so you can validate me?

Must I be a movie star or singer beloved by all?

Do I have to be someone I’m not just to move you? To please you?

Aren’t I already shoved down into the depths of society

With the only light provided is by them?

And I ask, whose fault is that?

We live like this in order to survive

The mass media and society join in matrimony and sweep us in their arms—

Ready to begin an affair of oppression

Playing as judges already convicting us of being unworthy—

Proven to be guilty by blind scrutinizing eyes

As I’m cast aside with the rest

And peek up at the ones who survive—

I can’t help but ask, whose fault is that?

Whose fault is it?

Whose is it?

It’s ours.

(Victims of self-reproach)


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