Surreal World Poem by Jacob Biehl

the world is surreal,
days blend together,
and inspiration is lost,
I dream of a simpler a time,
yet that times has long passed,
is maturity really what it is said to be?
is maturity acting adult,
or is it just tolerating a bleeding world,
if so maturity is but a burning wool over eye of wisdom,
if maturity be what it is made to be, than it is an expression,
a paradoxical expression of the ignorant, and the wrong,
if we allow the bleeding to continue,
then the wound will fester, and die,
if we should allow this rust in the leg to have its way,
all is doomed not just the 'mature',
don't take this lie while down,
get up and speak out, or be miserable.