The Seven Names of Malady

A self-inflicted prison, unseen by the eye.
Close yours and you will find.
May it inflict you too?
Awareness can bring peace
You withering soul.
It's name?
Malady.

When mouths go yapping and lips go flapping
malady becomes gossip. Watch out you may be it.
For if they talk 'bout him with you
and talk 'bout her with you
then they can talk 'bout you with him
and talk 'bout you with her.
Partake in, you're an enabler
Filthier than a crime perpetrator.
Your hands not quite dirty but your heart is
if you a watcher when they commit this.
Big minds and ideas
events for the not so much
and for the little, they're enslaved
by it.

In your mother's womb before you were born
unique you were already.
Name, eyes, voice, fingerprints
formed a masterpiece that was only you.
Why now that you've become an adult
immersed in society, thrusted out in the world
your colors are gone, your canvas is a copy.
Was it because they told you
this and that
that and this?
And you listened to
this and that
that and this.
And you did
this and that
that and this
because they did
this and that
that and this.
You're dead before you even begin dying
'cause you killed yourself
in the name of conformity.

Let's do Mathematics
you are one, they are many.
Now be like Atlas
carry the celestial spheres.
Who's stronger? Do tell me.
The backs of the many or the back of you?
Same weight, different numbers
the collective and then you.
Don't be fooled by the herd
their mentality is illusion.
When you do things on your own
you become stronger.
Shine on your own
you can fly higher.
Think on your own
you will discover a plenty.

What do you see?
A stranger on the street, his face stoic expression
and another stranger, a pair of lonely eyes.
A tycoon standing on the rooftop under the stars.
A beggar, ragged, dirty, and foul.
A disfigured man, face uneven and rough.
A sickly frail lady, withering from a disease.
Do you see him as mean or a wandering introvert
and her as ugly or nursing a broken heart?
Him as corrupt when he has worked all his life?
Him as lazy when his family abandoned him long ago?
Will you call him ugly or a freak of nature?
Is a word of comfort is a big waste of time?
Or maybe you'll do what they deem impossible
and stand next to them
no judgment at all.

That beggar above, you pass him by everyday
hand out reaching but you hardly notice.
Our home is dying
slowly being killed by neglect
and improper use
of careless citizens.
You lie in bed at night
and wake up fresh in the morning.
Wrappers here and there
here and there are smoke.
In the forest, in the sea
in the river
people are dying.
You sleep well at night
after having tea
with apathy.

If you want to be rich, visit a cemetery
dig up those dreams all put to rest.
Most not saw the light, went down in a cage
along with their masters, names on the graves.
The greatest invention you'll find
and the greatest song too.
The greatest movie you'll step on
and the greatest book too.
It's sad isn't it?
Skeletons and dust are what remain
of dreams never pursued
killed by fear.
If you're rich, go share it
don't take it with you
the world needs it
your sons need it too.

And the worst form of malady
is knowing
the good and the bad of things gone before
paired with the willingness
to do nothing
or perhaps the lack
of willingness at all.
Immobility, destructive
eating you like cancer.
Indolence may look harmless
or friendly to a foolish mind
but its sickle is sharper
than you will ever expect
already stabbed at your heart
without you knowing
and you slowly bleed
into stillness
before it kills you
with relief.

Malady.
Variously disguising
itself every day.
The inflicted knows not
of the hold it has
on the strings of their existence.
I ask you now, are you aware?