The Disposable Man
A shadow walks beside its host,
Suspending conversation in the dead air.
Expressing thoughts he hides the most,
Dead memories of a life unfair.
To express one’s thoughts, is to liberate the mind,
But to reveal these plots, is to isolate our kind.
Outside of range, the issue is not of thought,
It’s fear of the change, of what was once taught.
The shadow keeps cadence,
Bound in sync with the man,
Though there isn’t much guidance,
Intent to listen to his plan.
Within apathetic purpose, within childish reason,
Thrown over the surface, to masochistic treason,
The factors of hate, which we build on so blind,
Are the detractors of faith left in all humankind.
Tears start to fall;
The man’s love in his eye.
The shadow grows tall,
Underneath a moonlit sky.
We have loved ones to lose, we loved ones to gain.
Sometimes we choose, sometimes it’s just pain.
One does not heal, from scars of rejection,
Just cauterize and seal, and onto conception,
The good he has done,
Should not be forgotten,
Under the red glow of the sun,
The shadow stops walking.
The disposable man, so commonly known,
A well worn band, on the good that’s been sewn,
For those who wear, wear it with pride,
For they truly care, for what’s in your mind,
The morals we follow, string the web that we weave,
And for those who feel hollow, I can’t offer reprieve.
Just take a look at life, prop up the mirrors inside,
Then erase all the strife, and dispose of what makes you blind.
You will find your own disposable man.
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