It's actually real...

Forms of what we perceive as something of being normal usually isn't, the fact that we all give something a brand is occasionally the problem with that. Being normal now is being perfect because everyone tries to be something other than what truly lies inside. Are we facing an era of conceited practicals that don't even understand there  own existence? Have they stopped and asked them selves why they are here? Maybe they are asking the wrong questions. Possibly too caught up in the things that the world has come to throw in there faces? My only thoughts are to get away. To get out, to escape the dead factions that run this planted seed in the universe confined in its own self proclaimed existence. Ive come to my own senses, finally.. The night has finally calmed. I feel barren, not worn but seasoned, my thoughts are drowned out by the peace that blanketed my mind in velvet finesse. I close my eyes and see better than before, but there is only one sight that's in view. It's not a dream.