Private institution of a God
They call it madness
I say, I’m a witness
To their blindness
Third eye open
Seeing when they’re sleeping
Forgot their own divinity
Not believing what they’re feeling
Playing human
Playing small
Consuming poison
That they’re feeding
Sitting silent
When they know they should be teaching
Crying out in the dark
Longing to feel whole
Yet, creating separation
Through a screen
Through a mask
Through an identity hold
Hoping meditation will save them
From delusion
Even though they’re homesick for a place they don’t believe in
Guess this is just how it is to be human