Past not forgotten.

You’re out, because you were never in in the first place.

You’d line up among the supposed intellectuals and fakers that parade the streets that never seem to develop fast enough, constantly serving as a reminder of a past not so long ago. A series of possibilities, stacked up against the forlorn walls of forgotten buildings.

The smell of stale piss at the staircase landing reminds you of how much chaos and anarchy the world was once filled with, and now, this.

‘Civilized’ people who now stone you with their judgmental eyes. Scrutiny so sharp, it cuts deeper that cold steel.

You, a friend that I allowed to venture deeper within me than most ever would. I cannot bear the sight of you, because you are now nothing more than a constant reminder of the past that has, for so long, haunted me. A symbol of the people who never cared to understand.

Anger is irrelevant. Hurt is all that’s left. You’re a ‘them’. Them, who believe themselves to be better than everyone else. The ones who tell you what you should or should not do, because you’re obligated to have some sort of inclination towards adopting the principles of ‘my’ superior philosophy, and so I place my expectations on your shoulders with little or no regard for what you know, much less your intentions.

The breeze collides with your face and expectation of that sweet, familiar scent of impending rain lands you in a pool of drowning disappointment as you’re greeted by that familiar, but not so appealing, wave of industrial goodness. You think about the smell of piss again, at the staircase, and you wonder to yourself if anything would ever smell good again.

Someday, I’d unite the losers. A people, like myself, who have been pushed around long enough. Us, the unreasonable people who have once outnumbered you. Someday, we shall again and we’ll take back this world..or forever remain cynical.

The latter seems to be the more likely outcome, but..oh you.

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