The Amount Of Bullshit

There is so much
So much of bullshit
Layers upon layers
Who are we really?
Does anyone know?
I believe some might have a clue
Even they suffocate from their own bullshit
It’s definitely weighing on me
The amount of it all
It’s a tad overwhelming
Just looking at the teacher’s around
They are buckling under their own shit
We do and do, take actions
Without questioning our motives
And the truth is, I’m crumbling under My own shit
Weird games and subconscious patterns
It’s all a haze, together in this maze
Just reaching out our hands in the darkness
Hoping, hoping someone will be there to meet us
And now it’s mostly swiping
Left and right, up and down
Deciding if we like someone by the image the are wanting to portray to us
What about the real You?
The irony lies in the fact that we think this is the real me
The mind is so easily molded
If we post a picture of us happy or sad
That’s who we are from that point forward
But we are always changing
Ever evolving
The moon and the tides affect us
The planets, our experiences
Pains, hurts
Everything produces an emotional reaction within us
From that point we react
There’s another way
We can sit and feel everything
We can look into each others eyes and just be there for each other
Nothing more and nothing less
That’s enough
That’s all that’s necessary


Ian Altosaar

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