A Letter to Myself and You
A Poem by Danny Ballan from The Scream Poem Collection
I need to be—
back there
at the height of my fantasy;
it’s where I’ve lived
long since struck back
down to that jagged
razor-sharp surface
of reality—
the reality of you cannot,
the reality of you must not;
the reality where eventually
you do not do anything—
you do not
grow wings and take off;
you do not
bear the strings, but attach;
you do not
escape conformity—
the ugly duckling is always
cast away.
The world wants you out—
you’re either in their vicious circle
floating as in Asphodel,
or you are banished.
Go out there and build
your world in a shadow
that would doubt and neglect
what you stand for;
go out there
when everyone panics
at the sight of the madman—
everyone would fear
what everyone does not understand—
go out to the margin of life
to be able to change life;
you have to be on the lookout,
not melted within—
like a handmade cauldron of fate;
after you jump in,
you call it yours;
although everyone called you in,
no one dares give you a nudge.
Go out and join the crazy ones
who have changed the world.
Ears are growing scarce,
no one listens anymore;
hearts are being blocked,
eyes are blown away
with the dazzling lights
that sugarcoat the truth—
as long as you are there
enjoying your cell block
oblivious to the world out there,
you are a mere number
that feeds and breeds and dies
to generate more mouths to feed,
and join the cycle of the so-called nature.
The ever evasive loaf of bread
smirks at the turn of every corner;
you grow in your cell,
your loaf grows with you—
eats you out of heart and home;
water turns blood-red with vintage,
a bloody swamp to devour you—
you eat what can’t be eaten;
you drink what can’t be drunk;
you buy what’s not for sale—
your bed gets warmer with flesh above,
yet cold and deserted—no hearts within—
all those faces keep changing
like summer and spring,
yet no matter what you do,
winter is always on its way.
Inside, you cannot see
nothing but yourself—
Some say you are born
to worship a god
they tailor to fit
their gnawing teeth
and greedy smiles;
for years, wars were waged,
the answer was too simple—
they called a truce,
gave you freedom
and placed that god in you—
now you worship yourself,
they still tailor you to fit, too.
Maybe, we are born to love;
I want to see the world
that lies inside of you—
your eyes are the windows;
mine are yours—
with each new pair,
we might one day see better;
we might one day see after all.
Poem Insights
A Letter to Myself and You: A Reflection on the Struggle for Individuality
Poetry has an uncanny ability to capture the deepest struggles of human existence in a few carefully chosen words. Danny Ballan’s A Letter to Myself and You is not just a poem; it is a manifesto of self-reflection, a battle cry for those who refuse to conform, and a meditation on the fragile balance between individuality and societal expectations. It speaks to the dreamers, the misfits, the ones who see the world for what it is but refuse to accept it as their only reality.
At its core, this poem wrestles with the conflict between personal aspirations and the oppressive weight of societal norms. The speaker longs to return to a time when dreams were limitless, unburdened by the jagged edges of reality. The contrast between fantasy and reality is stark, highlighting the way society often acts as a force of limitation rather than liberation. The recurring phrases—”you do not,” “you cannot,” “you must not”—mirror the constant suppression imposed by external forces. It is a sentiment that resonates deeply with anyone who has ever been told their dreams are impractical, their aspirations too grand, or their individuality too threatening.
The Struggle Between Conformity and Authenticity
The poem exposes the rigid structures of conformity that dictate how we should live. The “ugly duckling” is “always cast away”—a painful yet honest truth. Society often pushes out those who challenge norms, who refuse to fit into pre-molded roles, who see beyond the surface. But should acceptance always come at the cost of authenticity? If we are forced to sacrifice our uniqueness for inclusion, are we truly living?
There is a call to arms in this poem, urging the reader to step outside the cycle, to “go out to the margin of life” rather than dissolve within it. It suggests that real change is only possible from the outside. But what does it mean to live on the margins? Does it mean isolation, or does it mean freedom? And if we do step outside, can we ever return, or does the act of rebellion permanently mark us as outsiders?
The Deafening Silence of Modern Life
One of the most powerful themes in A Letter to Myself and You is the idea that the world has stopped listening. “Ears are growing scarce, no one listens anymore;” this line cuts deep in an era where noise is abundant, but true understanding is rare. The poem suggests that people are more absorbed in distractions—”dazzling lights that sugarcoat the truth”—than in seeking deeper meaning. Have we become so accustomed to surface-level existence that we have forgotten how to truly hear one another?
The imagery of being a “mere number” in a cycle of consumption and reproduction points to a grim reality—are we merely existing to sustain a system that does not care for our individuality? Are we complicit in our own imprisonment, willingly stepping into the “cell block” of routine and predictability? The poem does not offer easy answers, but it forces us to question the nature of our own participation in this grand illusion.
The Illusion of Choice and the Worship of Self
Perhaps one of the most thought-provoking sections of the poem is the exploration of how belief systems are shaped. It speaks of gods “tailored to fit their gnawing teeth and greedy smiles,” suggesting that religion—or any ideological system—can be manipulated to serve the interests of those in power. Wars have been fought over these beliefs, yet in the end, society “gave you freedom and placed that god in you.” This transition—from worshiping an external deity to worshiping the self—raises profound questions about the nature of modern identity. Have we truly gained freedom, or have we merely replaced one illusion with another? Is self-worship a path to liberation, or just another form of control?
The closing lines shift towards a tentative hope, a longing for genuine connection. “Maybe, we are born to love;” a simple yet revolutionary idea in a world that often prioritizes power, profit, and self-interest. The poet speaks of looking into another’s eyes, searching for a deeper truth that transcends the self. Can true understanding only come from seeing through another’s perspective? If so, how often do we truly look?
The Weight of the Unanswered Questions
A Letter to Myself and You does not claim to hold the answers. Instead, it provokes, challenges, and unsettles. It forces us to ask ourselves:
- Are we truly free, or just existing within a new form of control?
- Does individuality come at the cost of belonging, and is that a price worth paying?
- Have we stopped listening to the world, or has the world stopped speaking to us?
- If we are all caught in a cycle of consumption, production, and distraction, how do we break free?
- Is love the key to seeing beyond ourselves, or is that another illusion we tell ourselves?
This poem is an invitation to think, to feel, and to question. It is not a passive reading experience but an active dialogue with the self. It dares us to step outside the boundaries imposed on us and to seek meaning beyond the obvious. Perhaps the most unsettling realization of all is that the answers are not external—they are within us, waiting to be uncovered.
This poem is from Danny’s The Scream poem collection, which is available to buy on Amazon.
0 Comments