Most people simply exist—
like ghosts walking a path laid out by others.
They rehearse a quiet script:
wake, conform, consume, and decay.
They drown the silence in noise,
terrified of an empty room.
To deviate from the script is a curse to them,
and they will call your clarity pessimism.
To truly live is the rarest thing in this world;
it begins the moment you refuse to conform.
No applause echoes into the soil.
The audience was never watching.
To stop performing for hollow shadows
and burn the script before it burns you
is the only truth worth keeping—
for the void receives our last and most silent kiss,
the only thing certain
in a world fast asleep.
~Janya
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