Dignified Dust

I was immersed in an impervious imagination of these frail flowers feigning a feel of freedom I watched their wings whirling in whoredom Impious, they are implanted with impinged impetus A dignified dust, decorated and dubbed a domineer Yet they decided to be detritus on a detour, detrained. Thronged by thick thorny thoughts, theme and thrust On a throne of thistles, ever thrilled by thralldom, Pots parading potpourri, they preen in power pomp, positioned in a plain, poisoned, they prey on the potter, O where did you wield those wings of woeful wisdom; to trail the terrain that will only twist and tame you. A dust you are, drunk and drenched with delusion Deluged by derisory dream in the domain of darkness, you drill and drink from the dust you did not designed O dignified dust, your destiny is but dross and dust. Devious: you devise deviltry with the devoiced dusts, With a magmatic mind, mutinous against your marker Your beauty, brain and brawns will soon get broken, And you will be drowned in the dust you dignified…