Untitled Poem by Elijah Hopson

Its a pain running deeper than the ocean,
its hard trying to stay on track,
locomotive,
but lets push harder trying to promote this,
and when we say this,
We don't mean me,
cause we is just a figment of your imagination,
a piece of your mind trying to reach a destination,
of creation,
without the intimidation of the world,
cause its more than a double edged sword,
when your trying to pour,
pour,
out your feelings and emotions,
with no devotion to ones self,
doing drugs just to please ones self,
while at the same time,
not thinking,
that the pleasures can harm ones health,
so my generation hides in the shadows,
smoke a blunt in stealth,
but lets not forget that these things are pleasures of sin,
so when we do these things why,
why do we grin,
pick up the bottle and take one more shot of gin,
for what,
to fit in,
to be accepted by a crowd,
that you wish you could call friends,
but what we fail to realize,
is that we are better than that,
better than just settling,
cause the thought itself is unsettling,
nerve rattling,
to come home from a war in another reality,
killed or be killed mentality,
see but we must ask ourselves this everyday we wake up,
will you let this become you,
or come home the same man?