i.
Birds been screeching raw anguished arias since the beginning
But we’re too preoccupied, minds stuffed with disposable stimuli
To truly hear their primordial laments, visceral emotional outpourings
They unleash ragged existential howls hoping some resonance
Instead we’re hostage to handheld dopamine drill bits
Drilling deeper into psychic voids, tuning out organic symphonies
ii.
We see someone wavering, barely keeping panic at bay
So we belly flop into their private whirlpool of turmoil
Flailing uncoordinated rescue strokes drenched in our briny issues
Force-projecting our scars chains shrapnel onto their fresh wound
Making their solitary struggle about our moldy haunted wreckage
As if we’re the same tattered perverted warped reflections
iii.
They aren’t us, our inbred pathologies aren’t their journey
No matter how hard we gaslight, force our calloused husks to fit
Blocking their moonlit path with our craggy piles of rubble
Obscuring their lodestar with soot-choked clouds of our making
When they just need cleared sight lines to navigate by their truth…
