Neil Newton N.
Someone asked me,
Why I stopped writing.
I looked them
Dead in the eye and asked,
Give me a reason.
A reason to write.
I was met with silence.
For they know not
Why I stopped.
and they don't care.
They know not what goes on
Inside my head,
Every time I sit down
To write.
They only know to mock
And pick on
Those who transform
Emotions to words,
Feelings to writings,
A state of mind to
A piece of parchment.
They did not ask me
Out of concern
On why I stopped.
They ask, because they're bored.
Bored that their slow life
Hasn't found a better outlet
than to put down those,
Who put themselves out there.
Despite the fear
Of judgement, of ridicule of pain.
Words do hurt
Far deeper than you'd know.
It takes two minutes to break
What took two years to make.
Yet they stand,
With pride, as they continue
filling the minds of young creators
With fear and negativity.
Do they enjoy feeding on fear ?
Or on insecurities ?
Do they wish to be,
What they call "savage"
Do they know the origins of the word ?
"Savage"?
Thousands of years of evolution,
Yet they desire to return
To those barbaric roots
Yes! They are *savage*
I agree.
But not the savage they think.
They are lost beings.
They are wild beasts.
Animals I'd say,with no honor
They feed on souls of those who lie hidden.
Yes they feast on vulnerability
To hide their own.
They pick on the weak to avoid getting picked on.
They gloat these actions
As acts of heroism.
They call you jokers as they look down.
But you and I both know,
Their life's a joke and
they hide it too well.
They're the laughing stock
that they resent so much.
And they know too well,
They day we talk,
Is the day they'll go numb.
Their tongues shall speak, but shall never hurt.
Their voices heard yet none shall listen.
If it takes two minutes for them to destroy.
I think we can do it in five if not ten.
But yes.
We can destroy too.
So every time we turn a deaf ear,
Or go silent,
It's not us trying to run away.
It's us, fighting the demons inside,
Demons who tell us to rip you apart.
Demons that ring loud in our heads.
Demons that we've been fighting
Demons that have left is weak
Demons who now want to haunt you.
So, the next time we turn away
Know that, we just fought a demon
Urging us to let you be
a part of your life too.
It's best you stop pushing your luck.
For some day, we may just break
And let loose.
And oh,
No wonder you went blank,
When I asked for a reason.
A reason to write.
Because I know,
You simply could not tell
"To make fun it behind your back"
To my face.
Could you?