Turn up!

(Title not related.)

They say the best things in life are free. Well that must mean, that ultimately.
I am free.
And its not just me.
Its me, and the next guy,
And the girl he looks in the eye.
Even that nerdy guy in the back with a tie.
Its all of us.
But all this commotion is causing a fuss.
And we've forgotten what we are.
What we had to fight for, to prove it we have the scar.
Some people have to take a step back and look to realize, and that's okay.
We started from nothing, but have come a long way.
But at the end of the day, were losing our say.
To plant our feet and take a stand,
You can give a boy a gun but can't make him a man.
All these battles and wars I'm not truly a fan.
But I'll stand for what I believe in, to say I wasn't the one that ran.
We could bind together and fight our oppressor , who have knives and suppressors.
But I don't want to watch the population drop.
When will it stop? Not til their on top calling the shots.
Were blind to this awareness, and forgetful of fairness.
Its tearing us apart.
Freedom isn't a god given right. Its an art.
And we all play our part.
Divided we fall, united we stand. Let them know these are our demands.
Freedom for all, or not at all.

If I'm not aren't you the one who wrote poetry in the past, I mean you wrote this ?

Originally Posted by Toxin

Freedom isn't a god given right. Its an art.

This One Real

Freedom comes with a price. For few to have freedom, lot must pay.

Originally Posted by Ameer

If I'm not aren't you the one who wrote poetry in the past, I mean you wrote this ?

Yeah. I gave a few threads in the poetry section. And I use to do a lot of the rap battles. Especially with Sam

- - - Updated - - -

Originally Posted by Ameer

If I'm not aren't you the one who wrote poetry in the past, I mean you wrote this ?

Yeah. I gave a few threads in the poetry section. And I use to do a lot of the rap battles. Especially with Sam

This is now a spoken word thread.

Suicide is the easy way out they say.

It's what we've always been told, it's what we tell ourselves to make us think we're strong, that we're invincible, but we're not.
When the pressure bears down on you, inevitably you'll crack, and the more you push back, the more the crack spreads until you're shorn in two.
Piece by piece you begin to fall apart, and eventually there's nothing left to keep you together, and you collapse.
With nothing to hold it up, the weight of the world drops down, and churns you to dust.

You're broken down with no life left in your soul, shattered and tattered and torn to shreds. You're weary and tired of fighting the tide that's pulling you out to sea. Day after day of struggling toward the beach, only to be swept back into the riptide, pulling at your ankles, sucking you down to the bottom. And you struggle and fight and call for help, but no one cares to listen. You begin to accept it and lie on your back, barely keeping yourself from drowning. You go on with your life, as you drift through the black waters, motionless and silent as you slowly die from exposure. Starving and thirsty but unable to get to shore, all you want is to rest for a while. They're right, you are weak, but only because you're exhausted.

I have the feelsssss

Originally Posted by Aborted

Beautiful.

Originally Posted by Aborted

This is now a spoken word thread.

Suicide is the easy way out they say.

It's what we've always been told, it's what we tell ourselves to make us think we're strong, that we're invincible, but we're not.
When the pressure bears down on you, inevitably you'll crack, and the more you push back, the more the crack spreads until you're shorn in two.
Piece by piece you begin to fall apart, and eventually there's nothing left to keep you together, and you collapse.
With nothing to hold it up, the weight of the world drops down, and churns you to dust.

You're broken down with no life left in your soul, shattered and tattered and torn to shreds. You're weary and tired of fighting the tide that's pulling you out to sea. Day after day of struggling toward the beach, only to be swept back into the riptide, pulling at your ankles, sucking you down to the bottom. And you struggle and fight and call for help, but no one cares to listen. You begin to accept it and lie on your back, barely keeping yourself from drowning. You go on with your life, as you drift through the black waters, motionless and silent as you slowly die from exposure. Starving and thirsty but unable to get to shore, all you want is to rest for a while. They're right, you are weak, but only because you're exhausted.

Okay I like it except for the fact that it tries to weigh down on me with depression. I think you should make a more upbeat poem.

Turn up!

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