What do people "see in me"?

 

Cost and Value

(A  Ramble Thought)

By

Ross E F Lombardi

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What do people "see in me"?

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HA!

No fucking idea!

Likely nothing - by no one.

Probably absolutely bugger all!

I'm just another silly meaningless voice in the darkness

Another lone nut shouting on the Internet.

Making words that will do nothing.

And art that will never be felt by anyone.

Both - soul filled Creations I cannot even give away for free

No one wants them

No one wants me

Just a man with no life worth fighting for.

Not worth defending himself for

No reason to survive

No reason to thrive

No reason to even want or care about making any money for.

Or go to the doctors for a checkup for.

If I made loads of money?

Who would I spend it on? Anyone only attracted to me for that reason, is already, not worth the effort.

Why get any medical checks? It's a hassle! A total waste of public money and resources.

Who am I staying healthy for?

I am disposable for a reason!

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But in that there is a different type of power.

With nothing to lose, - there is nothing to take.

No career or success to lose

No fear of death.

No one to live for

There is a kind of dangerous freedom here, that is worth fearing

by those who's power only comes from threats, pain, and intimidation.

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Unlike successful, popular artists and writers.

I can paint exactly what I need to paint

Write exactly what I need to write

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Unlike Most

I can always do what is right at any and all costs.

Being loved and valued diminishes that power.

Being needed diminishes me.

Popularity, belonging, family, - these are Cages that limit my actions.

That causes moral compromises in an ever-evil world constantly seeking weakness of will in us all.

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Because when you worry about yourself and yours, you cannot as easily help the helpless strangers that need someone to stand for them.

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The less you fear death, pain and dying,

The more you gain the power to refuse harming anyone.

And in a modern money world that relies on wars to function.

Or peddle its macho bullshit, to sell its male power fantasies to as a means to control us all.

That makes me an outcast.

Because those In power desperately need us to remain 'in love' with violence.

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The less I have to be taken, from me,

The more morally mighty and ethical uncompromising I can then become.

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Someone may kill me?

Someone dangerous may be imprisoned for my murder – then put in a place they can do less fear to the innocent.

And for every day that violent person is in there, is another day he can do less harm to others on the outside.

And in that I will have protected more people and done more good for the world

Then a decade of tying on my little shitty plastic keyboard alone,

Or my bits of stacking up art in my shitty tiny flat.

That fate is far better than dying old and alone.

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As we all must do
I will die
To maybe one day

Spit in the face of this wicked god

And willingly turn my back on his corrupt heaven.

Then Walk into hell, to comfort those I can, who unjustly dwell there.

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