Sometimes I don’t even know what Ospreyshire’s Realm is about
Perhaps I have so much to say
Yet I’m all over the place
Maybe I should only stick to my creative works
However, that would be irresponsible
Was I first known as an avant-garde spoken word poet?
Someone who makes written/typed poems?
Some random guy who likes international movies, documentaries, and anime despite mainly talking about it somewhere else most of the time?
Someone who has opinions about real life things?
Perhaps I don’t know what I’m trying to be anymore.
Was everything so cluttered and this realm reflected that?
I wonder why anyone even cares what Ospreyshire is about
I’m a mere drop in a digital ocean
Was I molding myself to something else or was I being molded by my own insecurities?
I saw the numbers and my creativity on here severely lacked
Funny how more cared about my caustic rant about literal copycat movies mattered more than my own originality (assuming if they weren’t angry or shuddering reading those thoughts)
Ospreyshire needs to rethink things
After seeing a pit full of painted Ls
Intent was a chameleon
As the original endeavor was ignored
Maybe more ears popped up
When I threw pairs of pennies
Whenever situations got very serious
What is Ospreyshire’s realm?
What is Ospreyshire (about) ?
Why is Ospreyshire about so many things?
Consistency was too busy being in the corner
At the cost of a confused identity
Why was I so naive to try and befriend my eventual abusers?
Psychological violations were low-key
To my own brain and esteem
Shame on me, for only seeing their talent or their facades
No class ever taught me about gaslighting
Why was I so stupid thinking I could redeem them?
Saying sorry even for things that weren’t my fault
Became some kind of vicarious intent for these vampires
When I stood up on my own two feet
That’s where they wanted me to change my name to Billie Eilish (if she was relevant during those times, pardon the pun)
I might as well have been the son of Satan himself in their eyes
None of my peers went through what I went through
This arrested developmental was pure stealth in subterfuge
Hugging me while my back became a corporeal sheath to them
Those same parasites never had my consent when they got to my psyche
No AT Field was there to protect the cortex
Avoiding my judgmental glances…
It was a like those blizzard cyclones that plague New England even when those who control them flee to become a Northwesterner (Nor’Wester?)
I never saw agony in their beings. They might as well sing pop punk tunes and name a band after a Blink or Ataris ditty
#FirstWorldProblems is what their laments sound like
Stockholm got the better of my judgment and I never knew why
I’m sick of having to prove my worth, intelligence, and humanity to them, my own friends…
The twelve beats and meters
Were new and recontextualized
It was the pop music from half a millennium ago
Yet no one knows the names of those who made the tunes or dances
Melodies were taken against their will
After they were crammed in the boats
Spanish and Portuguese replaced the original tongues
As the population grew back then
The modern population was unaware
Despite excavations and receipts brought up to the surface
Were native, but not in the ways one expected
Frequencies had tiers
This was new to me
Falsehoods plagued me even when I didn’t see it
Like a subtle poison, I couldn’t taste the venom until it was too late
I bonded with my abusers
And didn’t know it happened
Because not all mistreatment was physical
I thought you only needed chains to remain captive
What a gigantic way to stand corrected
I wanted to go beyond these invisible barriers
As I overlooked catacombs full of visions
Something happened to me and I didn’t know it all this time
Shame on me for believing that good conquers evil all the time
While I have a tall stature, I was still far too small
To make real change
As I was called a liar despite telling the truth
I was called an instigator despite being on the defense
Everything was my fault whether I did anything or not
I was ever the scapegoat for others while others were too childish to accept their wrongdoing
Was it a miracle that I didn’t hate humanity as a whole even with all the things I’ve learned and experienced?
I guess some hope lies within
The ascension of frequencies appeared once more
Waves on waves show up to the cumulonimbus shores before crashing down to terra firma
Wash away my impurities…
All it took was a revealed cover-up and one Tartaros of a sellout
The Bluegrass State never saw such a miscarriage
The ire magnified across the country
Was $12 million really enough for them in dealing with Breonna Taylor’s death?
Tell me if Justine Damond’s family got the same treatment
The insanity in this country wouldn’t stop there
There wasn’t a debate, but a yelling match between the two
Even pro wrestling promos had more sense and civility than that gaffe
Dog whistles and lack of policy questions were all it was about
Next thing, I know one was tested positive
But I thought it would just go away or possibly a hoax, right? (sarcasm)
These events indirectly added to the frustration
All I could see was a hopeless future
The lack of responsibility and equality was enough to darken my soul
My mind could only ruminate and catastrophize
I really am pathetic, aren’t I?
No matter how productive I am, I only saw bleak things
My life has certainly been productive for better or worse
Unfortunately, life can get incredibly busy for me at two different salt mines
While this isn’t running away, my house needs to be in order
Don’t expect this avant-garde osprey to fly away
Just expect one day instead of three
I will still put effort in whatever I do
My blog means a lot and I have things planned here as well as my other pages
Just be assured that when there will be posts, they will (hopefully) be worth your time
I don’t know what is considered heroic in society anymore.
While I wouldn’t call myself the greatest moral guardian since I’ve fallen short, I would never get away with the things (let alone act on them) so many others would.
The innocent get slaughtered while the guilty are extolled.
The rules are goalposts moved whenever convenient.
They think that some petty reforms or cashing out millions would be enough.
What an insulting consolation prize.
I guess things are only evil when it’s not their “side” doing it much like the so-called protagonists having carte-blanche to do villainous things.
I could make a laundry list of fake fictional heroes gunning unarmed women, abusing children, committing genocide by starvation, or even eating other characters, but we’d be here all day.
Regardless of one’s opinions about scripture, Isaiah said it best.
“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil.”
There is truth as these double standards are shown.
Shame how everyone thinks they’re the protagonist in their own story.
Sometimes the greatest battles don’t happen with swords, fists, or other weapons
It happens in the mind
Invading thoughts occur without warning
Malevolent clocks running backwards and looped footage
There was no control to rewind everything to one’s wants
20/20 hindsight makes the slights into mountains
There needed to be no debilitation as it’s happened before
It had to start with resolve and telling the invaders to be expelled
All those times were uphill battles
As my head hits the pillow, I hear the symphony of raindrops
Landing on the roof
After several days without the skies pouring down, it was a welcome change of tune
I imagined each drop being an agent in purifying me despite being inside
Washing away the negativity as well as clearing my mind of such was something I wished would happen
There was something so calming hearing the rain landing on the ground