Modern loathing in words

I really hate how modernity just screwed it.
with its lack of color and sterile scent,
compared to times where limitations were hated
and rules were made to be bent.

I do not talk with the mind of a teen
but of an adult who kept a sharp mind,
refused to be bound, kept his senses keen
and became an outcast, few of a kind.

Whatever happened to diversity
and to people with a thick skin?
Now everything became a damn insult
and any verb a mortal sin.

People giving up and making excuses,
falling down like soulless dolls.
Accepting a half-life without any uses,
complying to a system that makes them dull.

Some people call this to become mature,
I call those claims a waste of breath.
Because letting our freedoms to be obscured
is the quickest path to our inner death.

My beloved melancholy

The melodies of life can turn to foggy gloom.
Not implying that I feel lost and doomed,
but just swimming in slow subtle chords
mellow arpeggios, sighs and words.

My beloved melancholy stares at my expressionless face
making sure that my feelings are always in their place.
Sensibility based on mellow and graceful sorrow
and the yearning for the past on a dim lit tomorrow.

My beloved melancholy smiles at me like a lover
after a cleverly placed kiss underneath the covers.
In some twisted way she gives me life,
soothes me and protects me from any strife.

My beloved melancholy sweetly whispers,
a sweet voice that is balm to my sores.
She tells me that I should just breathe
reminisce, feel it through my pores.

So with a couple notes end this I must
as my muse bleeds into a pale poetic tragic ending,
my verses turn to ashes and my rhymes into dust
like a soft ballad of plain old pretending.

Screaming my way through the crowd

I scream out loud because I stopped caring.
Replaced the word "proper" with the phrase "what I need".
Limits vanishing and desires glaring
Of a different me at a different speed.

I am now an enemy of petty expectation
more of an ordered chaos, of a convenient dimension
preacher of freedom, warlock of perception
and bard of distant and sweet anticipation.

My anthem is the one of the eternally broken,
mind in bliss, remembering ended seasons.
My language is the words that don't need to be spoken.
In a world with no regrets and no use for reasons.

Hard to understand, but voluntarily apathetic
to the ones who claim that I walk in mistake.
this is not meant to be correct or even aesthetic,
this is just a human who a new way tries to make.

So I am not going to apologize or conform.
Not going to stand down or cheaply comply,
for selling ourselves short and becoming the norm
is the quickest and most pathetic way to die.