Degree's (We're told what we need)

You can have a degree
That they tell you, you need.
Or you can choose a path most perceive
To be unseen. One in which you throw away, the things common of today.

You can live happily with a family
That has been told that Grammy's
And fame are things you need to gain.
I am not so plain, I have no stakes to claim. Other than the right to fight for a better life and to bestow pride on my last name.

As a man I am raised to be a stone.
Unwavering through the waves of change, unwilling to give way to the pain.

I am not alone. Even though I am left cold, shaking deep in my bones. I will fight to find a way to condone, a place to call my own. A home.

I am not free. Or so the people with riches would like for me to think. Yet I breathe, yet I scream. What do you even think?

Is it the drugs we love, or the people we trust that we must spend all our time? Is it for me and mine, or the will of the hive, the need to combine to succeed? What does it all even mean?

All I know is that the seeds have been planted, granted that I close my eyes every time that the things I despise unwind, and leave me on my death bed, blind.

There is no comfort to find, but I promise to love true and deeply, if only someone worth my time would find me worth keeping. These words like knives leave me bleeding.