The Furry Forums
Creative Arts and Media => Creative Writing => Topic started by: Helenor on January 04, 2015, 05:50:31 PM
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I am an Engineer
I want to change the world.
I am a Writer
I strive to create a world.
I am a Singer
The sound of my voice shall linger.
The hopes and dreams
That I hope to see.
Tear apart the seams
Now what do you see?
A girl with no voice
Mute and alone.
She has no choice
For what must she atone?
The world is unfair
It needs repair.
The ways we are raised
Has no reason to be praised.
Call me selfish
Call me a narcissist
Call me whatever you want
In the end?
Will I bend?
Will I fall?
What would you rend?
My hopes?
My dreams?
Was I one to fall?
The more you oppress
The more I aggress.
I may have been broke
But I am but a tool.
And they are meant to be broken
You acted like a fool
For I am an Engineer
I repair, redesign, remake.
See me also as Writer
I create emotions both real and fake
I may have no voice
But I still am a singer
For these words shall linger
Like an itch you couldn't scratch
Or the strength that can't be matched
It may empower
Or it may break
It doesn't matter
Did I say it would be for the better?
Have I said that these words have a purpose?
No I didn't
I'll let you choose O' reader of mine
For I will never dictate
But maybe in time
Even you shall find
That the Writer is also the Writer of fate
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Wow thats really good
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Questioning
What defines beauty? The narrow hips? Good looks? A big bosom? Who implanted these thoughts into our heads? Was it "God"? Was it the "Media"? Or was in implanted into our genetic code? What is the purpose of a "God" anyway? Why do people insist of having a capital G for "God"? Does religion have a hold on all of us that we couldn't notice? In fact, why don't we notice the subtle questionable questions in reality? Was it because the media kept showing us what we wanted to see? Are we truly the slaves to the media? Have you ever wondered if the media is a slave to us? Constantly telling us what we want to know to survive. What's the point of life anyway? It's not like we're just put here because someone got bored and started to make chemicals clash, right? Could we all be part of an experiment? Maybe a race with higher intellect has decided to put us here just to see what we would do to the planet. What if the previous statement was true, and they decided to show themselves and tell us that they're the ones who created us. How would we react? Would we shun them? Call them heathens? Or join forces and repeat the experiment again on another planet? Am I out of my mind to ask these questions? Perhaps. Maybe I'm controlled by beings smaller than myself when this is typed. After all, I'm curious. And isn't this what a curious mind does? They question and question and either get an answer or not. Are my decisions to post this wise? Maybe. Does it matter? Maybe. Will we ever get a definite answer for everything? Probably not.