Society is but a murderer


It is bizarre, weird even, how they (society, the people, parents – mommy, daddy, everyone – the world) introduced us (young, adolescent mind of a soul – babies, toddlers, children, us) the idea of a dream; of dancing trees, singing houses and rainbow dusts in spectrum of colors you probably cannot (or can you?) have imagined. And then there are a few questions I would like to ask, among other things;

Remember the lullaby mommy sang you to sleep?
Or the bed time stories daddy read to you before you crawled under the blanket?
Or the scary stories about monster hiding underneath your bed if you don’t go to bed when the clock hit nine?
Were there a lot more?

There were.

Hundreds or probably thousands (or even millions) of things they once implanted into our mind; a manifestation of life, a dream, an alternative story – your story, your dream.
And when we were young, we believed: in monsters underneath our bed, in witches, fairy dusts and Santa Claus. We were young but we believed.

Growing up and looking back; what do we have now, really?

Society, people, rumors – all the disturbing things you can hear when you walked pass a place, a person, a moment.
You stop walking and you try to listen; the idea of people forgetting their dreams, throwing them away and choose to live within their borderline rather than beyond it.
“It’s impossible, this is impossible and that, too, is impossible,” – and it’s sad, really, because once, (if only you stopped and tried to think back) we were all but dreamers.

Society is harsh, it makes you forget;
and I will nod my head, “maybe that’s true.”


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