Started poetry only this year but English was a strongsuit

[Auriorusiana]

What are thee? A bird or a bee? Are you even alive? Or long ago did you wither and die? What is sanity when all is vanity and even the man who doth wrote the quote succumbed to the same woe.
Was it all a lie? Are we born just to die? Slaves to a twisted gods mind?
Or was there something overlooked, a discarded book, something to take me from this world of crooks but am I even better stuck in this cranny and nook

First I saw light, the structure that everything punctures. Then I drank the blight, my own volition, to understand the conditions of pure death and fright.
The woes of the world, the crying, the dying, the mind splitting and prying.
There is no god here, there is nothing but our own creations to fear, shedding useless tears, you’re trapped, youll never get out of here, get used to the fear. Branches cut with onyx shears, withered and rotted, nothing left to sear

A drop of light, my mind stirs, wary without fright. Is a parry to undo the curse that carries its own hearse? If it’s true how will it undo? Illusion was shattered it’s all meaningless matter how will I be rendered new? What is there to shew? All was revealed, nothing but dried tears, the call of the seals has long been revealed, the world is hungry and ive been the satiating meal.
So what is it? What is that drop? This rabbit is all out of hop, thought id preserve myself with aspect of idle turtle on shelf, but all burn out and face this wall, the tall wall that stumps all and urges you to climb just to fall. What is it? A tedious drawl or a beautiful ball? The golden hall or just one in the wilderness with no one o hear his bawl. At the light I call, permeate the night, the cosmos shakes and writhes.
If it begins in the mind, reality is mine, I decide what to make wrong and right yet I refuse bias, that blight, discard and illusion of light if it means I know what the body of god considers upright. It doth is both, night and light, can’t have one without the other but what is the world worth if it drastic plastic brimmed with false color. Enslaved to the game of self proclaimed royal names that keep us at bay for they fear the day their fish is filleted, the year gods tear touches us all near, and brings forth a new song for all to hear. The snakes continue to sneer throwing stones at our cheers.
An angel approaches, a play of my mind or a messenger from the high divine, I discerned the truth, this thought is not manifested from my own booth.
“You May leave this rock, it is not your true flock, we’ve heard your cries we know that you are distraught, come with us, and all things will be taught, choose naught, you may still face the rot here, but our song you will still see and hear”
I contemplate, perhaps my eyes were too big for my dinner plate, “if I leave that is a disgrace, my friends, my family, turn my back on the human race? What kind of choice is that to make?”
“Yours of course, this world is an obvious trap, a coarse carriage drawn by a slave horse, this is a rock without a church, a sight without search, a blight and a curse. The light is leaving, your kind and your mind is only fit for reaping here, they don’t want you they want what you can do, they don’t care what you can shew, they’ll drink your dew and leave you soon. The offer is to join a new family a new journey, take you from this senseless mourning, and show you the true dawn and morning. Refuse the offer surely you’ll be used, for harder or for softer, you’ll still hear the song and near, many things still to be revealed, but also you will face the torrent of fruitless tears through out your years. Your own will disown, your family will reap your sanity, many friends will only begin to end, it is your choice”
“I stay, I must, it would hurt them, and hurt me thus. Maybe they’d forget in a few years, dry their tears, find something else to supplement the pain they hear. It would still be unfair and shrill, I was shown and given the gift to known things that lift and the bridge across the rift. Not many like me or thee left here, as you said, our own family reaps the few who hear. But if I leave when I no longer fear it is a disservice to a hurting world of idle purpose. If I can bring that fire that is needed so dire then I will stay and suffer the cold hold of their snare and wire”
“That is your choice, that is the song of your voice. Are you brave or naive? A slave or free? The why is just as important as the message that is thee, just as the How is just as important as the What, just as power is worthless without proper use on the hour. So I ask why? Why sit everyday and die for people who will not see you until they die and meet the steeple? Keeping you, reaping you, letting malice seep into your chalice. Why? You are the sky but stay to dirt, you stay on this rock and continue to hurt, for a world that births beasts and monsters only to take what is true worth.
“I don’t know, there are not words, love is what I’d suppose, I want them to be okay, for them to hold a little day during the night, when the light leaves, and they’re left as a feast for fiends, if I can stand in the way then why shouldn’t I stay and live another day? Die what I consider a noble way, a way without earthly vanity, a way that is good to me and perhaps another thee that might come along and see, pave a path through peace and wrath, balance a storm and allow gems to be born. I know it will hurt, and continue to get worse, I will long for that casket and hearse, to take me away to the future paradise on earth.
The question eventually becomes not why but why not? If this world is designed to die and force us to resign, if living here is just senseless fruitless suffering and fear, then why shouldn’t I taste death before it’s dispelled with the demons and the rest? To learn how to undo chains and let the rain wash away the pain. Why not fight fire with every element in the song of the almightys lyre if I so can. What will these gifts be worth in a world without hurt? I could create beautiful crafts that catch divine thoughts like a wind in a mast surely, but I would will eternity knowing I left when I could do what’s best. That’s hell in heaven, and that’s chains where we fly and never die. And that is the Why”

[Auriorusiana]

The specter smiled, unsure if I was a fool to be this worlds tool or a soon poor boy to be king to rule. But it always goes this way, a persons golden life thread splits and frays in multiple directions, as a suns ray, as a moonlight gaze.
“The ancestors you’ve yet to properly meet were eager for you to see, they understand the ends the family has gone down the bend, and it almost met its end, if it weren’t for you, a boy or a bot who decided not to give in. Refusing to sell his soul for riches and gold, and refusing to leave in a way others spend their lives paving to get through to that day. Still many will continue to scoff and sew you distraught, reap instead of teach, claim you false and claim you a snake to lead the lost. No one knows you, except for you, and the loved ones you shew. The future is a bright and dark one for you, find yourself in exile or with friends and journeys of new. Either one will fit like a perfect shoe, and that is your fate, as others have faced, this is life or disintegrate. Grail of gold, the pale of old, fount of youth, or doubt of truth. Hardly do many like you get received by their own out of the blue, but time will tell what’s true, in the meantime, enjoy the views, find something new, sift this river and find that gold and find something for all to enjoy and behold. That is the greatest gift, that’s what creates a rift in the night of blight.

[Auriorusiana]

As the messenger left, the boy lingered on his mind at his behest, not an unexpected reaction, but kindness that holds capability and potential can be the most worrying, passion goes both ways.
Being too idealistic, can drive a person to a path of wrath, too accepting and this person becomes a step to stand on. Having capabilities leaves the door open for volatile conflict.
What would come of him? His journey nearly ended in this era before it started, this world surely would disappoint and still amaze as was its purpose beyond measure, and the potential was yet to be explored fully.

As the boy sat in his room, mind spinning from the visit, worrying if he had made the right decision, and reminding himself virtue signaling can be a harmful incision. He wondered on the future, accustomed to not having a normal path as others, he knew no path was normal and as much as society had become cut and cloned, he still saw the individuality in nearly all. He wondered what life would be if he had never decided to see and be, he knew all others would point at him and claim insanity if he decided to speak freely incessantly as he longed.

No normal opportunities would come easily, they never had, the family was accustomed to struggles of financial limitations. One of his first lessons in the materiality of this reality. Seeing how others revered it while he always made sure to have himself revered for what’s inside rather than what’s worn. But at this point he didn’t seek reverence, nor fame, nor glory, but nobility by his standards of doing works to heal and reveal. Always cautious, you never know what someone would do with an open flame, so he kept himself and his abilities secret, feeling as though a day would come when he and others would return from hiding to show the world the true fun.
Until then work normally? Always hated monotonous cycles but too restless to simply not work, plus principles that every man should work and do his part in the world. He wondered for others like himself, he knew he wasn’t alone, he knew this has been happening for thousands of years, he even wondered on distant planets, and the state of them.
Seek others? He knew abilities had nothing to do with righteousness, that he would very well find more beings out the leech, kill, or recruit. There was no one to speak on these matters around in the flesh, not a single soul, he could only find answers through prayer, through channeling the angels, and the occasional stranger online that strikes you in a certain way.
He knew especially in this day, how natural selection must have not favored many like him, how his kind and others must have been hunted and persecuted for hundreds of years from fear of the unknown. He knew in a day stocked with disbelief that he’d hardly find a way, after all, the boy himself as agnostic until the occurrences yet always found himself letting his light out.

So what was there to do? Unfortunately lastly his mind hovered to his financial situation, he knew he would have to focus on the lifeblood of a plastic world that is money more than an average person with opportunity. This was accepted bitterly, but he knew with the proper funding he’d be able to fuel his journey.
“Money would solve everything, obviously, money didn’t give me these gifts and wit, perhaps if anything it’d cause me to stagnate and not look farther”
“False” he came back with himself “where one boy wants a video game I want a wall to paint or a journey to take, ive never ran from conflict, ive stood up to adults as a child knowing they could crush me, if I have all the ability to lounge around of course I’d rest and treat myself but I am going after the unknown and a new adventure, always”
So many things filled the boys mind, until it ached, and yet he thought on
“I could be poor forever and quite content, but my friends wouldn’t let me, and I would lose the ability to take part in normal society. I could sit on the street corner and draw the cars passing all day and wander from city to city. And maybe I’d be happy. But id have no one, I would have might aswell left”
Thought thoughts and thoughts continued, he always had this issue, his greatest weapon and chain, the endless stream. He was going to pursue his dreams, and outwit those obstacles that lie in between, by some means, by some means, but never any means. The How is just as important as the What. The journey and end are the same gift