A Feral Mind
A Feral Mind
He had never cared for the herd instinct
drifting toward the forewarned edges
gazing into the eyes of freedom.
Gnawing on the gnarled tufts of generations
following the same rutted paths
shunned by those who thought him “troubled”.
He loathed the domestication of the herd
its mindless mindfulness of rhetoric’s creed
“the herd is more important than your need”.
He asked the wise old owl: “WHY?”
The owl answered only: “WHO?”
His mind, gone feral, knew he knew.
©7/30/2018
for the Feral Poetry Contest
Copyright © John Lawless | Year Posted 2018
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