He is me

And so there he pondered on one stormy night
What is the thing that keeps people right?
Is it the small voice inside that screams live your dreams?
Was it the government, the gods, the kings, or queens?
And there he wondered how it came to be
For he now understood that he wasn’t he, but he was me
If all things interpreted was through his perception
Then God was not God, it was merely his own deception
There he realised the things that do not exist
Money, politics, essentially an endless list
And so he slouched back into his bed
Facing a state of constant, unbearable dread
For now he could see the future unravel ahead
The lonely path was the only one to be lead
Without blood and love he would live amongst the stray
So for now he keeps all else away
From stories to lectures his patience grew slim
He threw away anger out of pure hatred for such a thing
He did his best for that’s what he was taught to do
But always for nothing, its rare to find people like you
He looked for answers in the eyes of the wise
Only to find all that was known were webs of lies
Everything he believed was gone in a blink
One by one all of which began to sink
His time in solitude made him feel sad
But the picture was not yet finished, and all wasn’t so bad
So he ran outside to feel the energy of lightning
He heard no noise and turned to the greatest composition of writing
He layed in the oceans and opened his eyes
To find his bedroom walls releasing harmonious sighs
He prepares his armour for what he knows to be
But smiles in the face of truth, for he now knows he is not he
He is me