The message

I sit and look at the words I have written
And think
There should be a message
there should be words of wisdom so profound your mind reels from the weight of knowledge you just found
It should give you the feels like a jagged edge song
I look at my words and something is wrong
I see no message here
All is a hundred forms of fear
There is no knowledge, no truth apart from validation my mind seeks
Apart from doubts there is nothing that these lips speak
I look to God, to the wisdom of the written word, to inspiration from the ever changing muse
and all I see are empty words
I look to the world
and see a generation lost at sea
One promised the world as children
then denied so much as a patch of grass as grown ups
Look at the entitlement they say
They called us unique once
told us we were the future
That everything was there for the taking
that if we just worked hard enough the world would fold itself up and place itself in our palms
I look at the children we were packed into rows at the farm they called school
And I see no entitlement
Not yet at least
I think of my message
How can I give hope when I'm barely avoiding the hangmans rope myself
How can I tell you to be who you are when I feel like a toy soldier waiting to be picked up off the shelf
there are so many things to say
There are so many injustices and only so many words will fit on a page
there is only one of me and I'm not enough to hold this rage
I wish I could clearly and concisely
while standing on this stage
Tell you the wrongs to be righted
Tell you of the unworthy who are wrongfully praised
Tell you how they were raised so high
So we could band to together to pull them down but I
I am a only a comically small man
In a wide world in a time that lacks a message
My lips can't form the words quick enough to escape the hands waiting to smack them down
but please hear me when I say
money is not god
That cannot be the way
god is not found in bullets or borders
God is not in trade deals, economies or new world orders
He is in the eyes of the kind, the lips of those preaching patience
The hands of those who give to ones In need and In the minds of those who help for no other reason except that help is needed
I guess I've found it
My message is for you all to find your own damn message
and once you've found it scream it from the rooftops in unison
Scrawl it on the walls in your own blood if you have to
Do anything you have to do to make sure it's not lost
Because if we carry on this way
Voiceless
Hopeless
loveless
Lost in the trivial acts of the media circus
We'll lose sight of life's higher purpose
Worse we'll forget of any such concept