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Poem

Drain the bad excuse I've made for my pupils
they know not what they see

Choices are made
villains are created in a workshop of walking hammers
cherished torture tools belong in the first drawer
the one near the floor

Same person, same face
same future, same race
the space between glowing follicles has reached maximum distance ratio's
computed near perfection by the drones whose job it is to oversee the confusion

Who loved the ones who loved who they knew loved them
battered crust extinction level event
airbrushed and heaven sent

Your God has a plan for every set of eyes
Not mine
He's alone in the workshop banging away at roadblocks
twists and turns
forks in the road and other whathaveyou's

A slow embrace
is better than none at all 
A diluted disgrace
is sweeter after you've had to fall

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