Coming to terms
with a world
that assails at
every turn.
The disempowered
showered with fragmentary
elements of naiveté
that burn flagrantly
betraying the
consequence
of providence
that lies at arms reach.
Those inclined
to teach
beseech the gathered –
but their cries
are relegated to static
not a siren song
to be followed.
Leaving the muddled
confines of legacy
debased, hollow, emaciated –
time is fleeting
bell tolls
a long drone echoes
the flatline beckons.
Copyright © 2017 ShunPwrites. All Rights Reserved
Shun P. Writes... dot com 