The Dystopia Journals

No no, This face must go It will not do, We require another you! It will not fit, The place for which You are intended, it must be mended. That frown won't do, but we have a cure for you. A certain remedy, for all those grave abnormaties. We'll make you smile, as you walk the mile. The cogwheels turn, the bridges burn This cure will stick. There are no ills, these pills won't fix. When ill mouths speak, these pills will educate the weak. Life has it's price, and yours aren't right. Deviance will disintegrate, conformity facilitate The clockwork of a healthy kind Paint on a smile, step into line You'd better learn, if not you'll burn There are no ills, these pills won't fix. When ill mouths speak, these pills will educate the weak. Never stray, from the proper way. Nod and obey. Obedient souls survive the day. Behold your only true messiah. An entity of which you're a part. A vast and cold indifferent being. A grey clad mass without a heart. Take your pills! Cure your unmutual soul. Purge your ills. Accept your given role. Take your pills! Cure your unmutual soul. Purge your ills. Accept your given role. Hush... One for your brothers, and one for yourself. Two for slight deviance, for rejection awaits seventeen grams of lead.

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 26, 2025

I shook the devils left hand, felt his breath down my back. Gazed upon the dying gardens of Eden, turned and took my own path. Have you never wondered whether your morality, is a product of the past? A defunct and long outdated ancient artifact, long the shadows you cast Folly clings to the past. Man's deception is vast. I bear no demons with pride, though their existence I acknowledge, We are all bastard sons of gods and devils, glorious and vile. I bear no demons with pride, though I acknowledge them as mine. I've felt the price of containment, paid what's due for my lies. Cursed both God, self, and devil, stared through strained, bloodshot eyes Have you never questioned whether your morality, is a product of the past? A defunct and long outdated ancient artifact, long the shadows you cast. Folly clings to the past, man's deception is vast. I am a sinner and a saint, both gods and devils will attend my wake. Am I a beast? Am I impure? Tell me mother, how much must I endure? I bear no demons with pride, though their existence I acknowledge, We are all bastard sons of gods and devils, glorious and vile. I bear no demons with pride, though I acknowledge them as mine. If in blood flows the essence of mankind, then blood, don't flow streamlined.

Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 26, 2025

My troubled journey began some 15 days past with the death of a man. Of his crimes I know nothing nor know I his name, but still his demise would blemish my name. And he haunts me still with his vulture eyes, piercing my lies. At my moment of glory and his of defeat I thought I'd find silence but I was deceived. My trouble journey went on, crafty deceptions made a hazardous road. Even I lay traps for my self as ominous thoughts sowed seeds of discord. In my own mind, or was this one of his tricks. Still he haunts me grasping my shoulder. Tearing at me with his vulture beak. So with teeth, claws and frenzied I voice my anger, once more and hoping to rid me this pest. Blood red chaos, intent on destruction, I saw the unseen, felt claws pierce my flesh. What is the vague, familiar smell? The remnants of some dear old hell? My blood is boiling, as if to tell, A tale of why and where and when Your wounds are bleeding! Mine as well, Your limbs are trembling Losing strength What have you done? Which face is yours? The one upon the pale skinned horse? Now I remember Heed my words! I tell you all. This blood is cursed I can not fall, Whilst lying down I've found my spot here on the ground. My troubled journey would end. My back had been broken, my life had been spent. He had gained his revenge from within his own tomb, made my fragile mind into his dying womb. So he haunts me still with his vulture eyes, piercing my lies. At my moment of glory and his of defeat I thought I'd find silence but I was deceived I tried to shake these demons from my hide. I never sought to live a lie my train has gone, and I will not be there on time. To be redeemed, but left to die.

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 26, 2025

Damned once, condemned to be forgotten. Locked into this cage, I struggle and struggle infused with rage. I can smell the sea, these chains won't keep me. Damned twice and locked into this soulcage, I cry out in anguish, as my soul starts changing shape. These bastard thoughts were never mine. Embrace, internalize the crime. Damned thrice supposedly conformed. My body ache as I embrace these bastard norms. I can smell the sea, these chains won't keep me. I can think and breathe these bloody chains won't keep me. I sought the devil out as I realized what I'd become. I sought redemption, but all I could find was the devil's trail. And there I followed in the devil's tail with all my demons now immortalized, with them my pains. And misery came in my wake. I, all of my innocence has died, this here is not my mind. I, while I was locked up there I died, became a soulcaged mind.

Submitted by Finntroll — Apr 26, 2025

I urged to do good, but somehow motives, action and its consequence can form absurd chains, can form absurd chains. I never fully understood but somehow, somehow these grew taint. Obscured my inner eye. Spawned interior lies. The lies turned to truth in my eyes. Called upon me to commit these deeds, I would consider vile. As if these hands weren't mine. I paused and beheld his dead eyes, And momentarily I glimpsed my distorted I. But, this clearness died. Could I confine my mind, to justify my crime? Every trivial move could bind This twisted fate of mine. I tried to conform but these malevolent fingers, These malicious fingers were plotting my doom. I turned the deaf ear but the voices still lingered, And thus my new image continued to bloom. This devilish contraption controlling my fingers, towards times of chaos and gloom. I urged to do good, but somehow motives, action and its consequence can form absurd chains, can form absurd chains.

Submitted by johnmansley — Apr 26, 2025

See the towers are crumbling, great domes fall apart. This once potent realm has long since lost its spark. Like an old bitter ghost of some glorious past, the world mocks the splendor from which it was cast. Like a ghost from the past. From which it was cast. See your dying realm, your world has ended. Like its false ideas, you can not mend it. Wretched fates seek their shelter, not ready to part, with a world reigned by (absolute) order; a clenched fist with no heart. Dead eyed stares see no evil in their glorious past, they all cheer the splendor from which they were cast. From which they were cast. Poison fills every vein. Hands caress their own chains. Gray dust fills every lung, choking words of treason before they are sung. Before they are sung. Fills every lung. Before they are sung. Amongst the ruins alone, stands a crooked old throne. On this old wretched thing, there sits intolerance as king. He never weeps, he never sleeps, scorns all that lives, he never forgives. Burn your witches! Serve your priests! Burn your bridges! Enslave your inner beast! Burn your bridges! Slay the beast within! Raise your idols above any living thing! See your dying realm, your world has ended. Like your false ideas, you can not mend it. See your dying realm, your world has ended. Like your false ideas, you can not mend it.

Submitted by johnmansley — Apr 26, 2025

It was hard to see, through blurring eyes, my grave disease. Had I been deceived, by hands of corruption, to fit their needs? Should I try to cut the line, and sever the bonds tying me to this vile kind? Still, subconscious demons are hard to find, like finding daylight when you are blind. Restrained, Deemed as insane, profane, This disdain is my own shame, my only grain of self. My body was forced through mental ties, ensnaring me as the ego dies. Had the bastards infected my fragile mind? With a cancer designed to break my spine? What are my options, where can I go? To kill of this cancer or hamper its growth? Is this cancer me, am I the abnormity, killing the "we". Or am I diseased, with a mental corruption from which I'll be free. Once they manage to cut me free. As soon as they find a cure for "me". Still, subconscious demons are hard to find, like finding daylight when you are blind. My pains and worries dissolved like melting snow, like a dying glow. I will become, a part of wholeness, in all its glorious gray, in its simple ways, I embrace, the "we", the only true and refined unit of mankind, we forsake the "I".

Submitted by NecroGod — Apr 26, 2025

As the shroud cleared from my mind, The sights I saw, the remnants of my world, Were all grim apparitions. Ghastly remnants of a past, interior night. The pawn lay dead, banished from my head. And the scent of self deceit grows weak. The story of I, needs to be revised, Behold the pawn lay dead! I've banished my false self I have shred my wretched hide. I have turned the tide. Those ills I have suffered affected both mind and skin, My demons were my own kin. My fire still remains. I'll gladly fall from grace. I'll sacrifice no life for false ideals or for your false ways. With sight free of taint, a clear conscience regained, I began to realize my fate, was not to be subject nor to be pawn, I'll bear no crown of thorns. I've banished my false self I have shred my wretched hide. I have turned the tide. Those ills I have suffered affected both mind and skin, my demons were my own kin. My fire still remains. I'll gladly fall from grace. I'll sacrifice no life for false ideals or for your false ways. For false ideals or for your false ways. For false ideals or for your false ways. With all of my heart I forsake the term normality and the illusion of its existence among the ranks of mankind. Normality is an image constructed by the powerful to further strengthen their cause and their hold on the subjective realm one calls reality. The normal person has never existed in flesh, nor will he ever do. He is merely a manifestation of the person who best serves the interests of the elite who controls the definition of normality. To be free one must rid oneself of any aspiration to be normal. Normality is slavery. Be abnormal! Be free!

Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Apr 26, 2025