Searching for what it means to be human,
We miss out on noticing we\'re aliens
who arrive through a portal
and people claim us as theirs,
raising us to become human.
Who we are as children has no semblance
to the monsters we become.
Creative spirits are hushed in the process of focus,
a metric of society forced upon us.
Dreamers are improper fuel to make the machine run,
so dreams are hushed,
occipital grays before age plagues.
Those who fail to align
are shunned or medicated
A few creatives make it.
No wonder our soil is tainted.
We\'ve steered quite far from our etymology,
meaning \"of earth, humus, humble\"
the beings who defined us then saw connection,
they didn\'t derive the next contraption to hack
the beauty of our inception into this dimension.
Sure plan on leaving here empty handed,
back to etymology.
Let me rot
with the only mother I know
Earth