Suits of woe,
gowns of thick despair; a crowd of desperation watches stifled sickness in the air. Envy and jealousy embrace, flaunting oblivion, in sync; a mirror image of pride reflects in their limbs so-linked. Resigned and victimized, fawning and cringing; we both become slaves; strings on a plaything. No one knows or would like to admit, the mysterious science of lies that ends in collective benefit.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorThis blog reflects the author's original works and musings unless otherwise noted. No part of this website may be reproduced or distributed without permission unless directly linked to this website and credit to the author is given. Archives
January 2022
Categories |