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Legion.
It doesn't matter the reason.
It's cold hearted treason.
It doesn't matter what season.
For thy name is still Legion.
For we are many!
Large in numbers are our kind,
but still lonely as can be.
You reach out hoping for love.
Nothing reaching back as far as the eye can see.
It's depressing,
but what can we do?
Those who care
are in few numbers than we.
You try to speak out.
You try to ask for help,
but you're up there with wheezy
stuck on the top shelf.
You call for your cowboy savior.
A true town sheriff,
but with this corruption
no one's willing to pay the terrif,
Not for someones elses rescue anyway.
You'll sit up there collecting dust in your asthmatic lungs.
A piece of you broken.
A piece people know is there,
but they can't really see it.
They don't need to see it if they just believe it's there though.
We go on and live our happy lives
not conforming to the norm,
because we fear normality
when the norm is brutality.
Lethality rains down in a storm.
No love to be shown.
No one to adorn.
When the Mentality of society
intersects with the formality of abnormality
society loses all sight of any congeniality.
I sit here behind this screen trying to convey a message to my people.
To Legion:
Where true purpose is askew.
Where our great number are shown as only few.
To those not apart of Legion:
We shun you for unobvious reasons.
We want not you to share our stories.
These stories are not ones of glory.
Nor valor.
NOR will we take heed to momento mori.
I'm afraid I must digress from this allegory
and continue with the previous fable.
To be able to power through these struggles,
not everyone is capable.
I write these words in hopes to reach a select few.
Those facing hardship that are trying to pull through.
Those humble in numbers that can look to the sky
and say,
"I will choose to live until the day I die."
