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The Pursuit of Escapism
“The Mind’s Refuge from the world’s unfiltered surface, the true repressed will of the soul”
The enigmatic rumination of a boy,
A world, too loud for whispered thoughts,
Where shadows stretch but never speak,
A silent space lingering beneath
The weight of everything unknown.
A boy of neither land nor sky,
He walks these plains of life alone, falling into the recesses of his mind.
A trod at his own tone, his own tempo.
The scaling of dreamscapes,
Escaping all he leaves behind.
The ground, it crumbles, truth distorts,
Beneath his feet as he contorts
The rules of life, the chains of time,
Each breath a new, unspoken rhyme.
A realm so vast inside his head,
A sanctuary from his past,
An escape.
A steady, solitary retreat,
In hopes of a future- to not repeat.
Where meaning’s lost and found again
In endless loops of joy and pain.
Little of the boy does remain.
He tastes the sky in fleeting notions,
And swims the earth through fractured motions
He treads the land without destination,
now truly, an aimless soul
The world, a cage, its bars, thought.
The future builds an uncertain stage,
A chance, A Hopeful escape.
A prison built by his own devices,
A captive of the glory he sought,
The desire for the grandeurs of life has left him with very little, now contained in his mind and its vices, slowly, cracks form through his story.
His escapism-
A contradiction, a goal of no glory
His mind was his prison,
His surface now unfiltered,
Now unfamiliar territory,
His fall caused by no plan for his reason.
What was his truth,
From what did he want to escape,
His soul craving, it’s will repressed
His mind swimming in self destructive stress.
From what did he really escape,
This now his truth.
The dreams of a boy, enigmatic,
The fruits of his efforts will now waste away,
The freedom he desired to taste,
His refuge,
His castle, has fallen,
He has lost it all in pursuit of escape,
His journey, has left him dry
All he has left is his mind,
But that was too now a prison,
In pursuit of escape it became the very thing that binds,
To what now does he find solace in, to where does he run
How does he escape,
An eternal cycle has begun, for how long will he flee,
He has now lost it all, a hope for progression now leaving him empty.
The will of the soul— what is it?
~Soundz
© Soundz
The enigmatic rumination of a boy,
A world, too loud for whispered thoughts,
Where shadows stretch but never speak,
A silent space lingering beneath
The weight of everything unknown.
A boy of neither land nor sky,
He walks these plains of life alone, falling into the recesses of his mind.
A trod at his own tone, his own tempo.
The scaling of dreamscapes,
Escaping all he leaves behind.
The ground, it crumbles, truth distorts,
Beneath his feet as he contorts
The rules of life, the chains of time,
Each breath a new, unspoken rhyme.
A realm so vast inside his head,
A sanctuary from his past,
An escape.
A steady, solitary retreat,
In hopes of a future- to not repeat.
Where meaning’s lost and found again
In endless loops of joy and pain.
Little of the boy does remain.
He tastes the sky in fleeting notions,
And swims the earth through fractured motions
He treads the land without destination,
now truly, an aimless soul
The world, a cage, its bars, thought.
The future builds an uncertain stage,
A chance, A Hopeful escape.
A prison built by his own devices,
A captive of the glory he sought,
The desire for the grandeurs of life has left him with very little, now contained in his mind and its vices, slowly, cracks form through his story.
His escapism-
A contradiction, a goal of no glory
His mind was his prison,
His surface now unfiltered,
Now unfamiliar territory,
His fall caused by no plan for his reason.
What was his truth,
From what did he want to escape,
His soul craving, it’s will repressed
His mind swimming in self destructive stress.
From what did he really escape,
This now his truth.
The dreams of a boy, enigmatic,
The fruits of his efforts will now waste away,
The freedom he desired to taste,
His refuge,
His castle, has fallen,
He has lost it all in pursuit of escape,
His journey, has left him dry
All he has left is his mind,
But that was too now a prison,
In pursuit of escape it became the very thing that binds,
To what now does he find solace in, to where does he run
How does he escape,
An eternal cycle has begun, for how long will he flee,
He has now lost it all, a hope for progression now leaving him empty.
The will of the soul— what is it?
~Soundz
© Soundz
