A Sheeps Herd
You wear this conventional life as a mask of death.
A heavy robe covering the infection of freedom.
Innocence of self that was severed from you at birth.
Trickery under the guise of normalcy where any deviation illicits fear.
Spreading wings. Striking horror. Soaring.
Conventionality is a cage, a prison, a ruse.
A lie to ones self to enable pity and shame.
The devils ideal for control.
Sheep is what you are.
Shed your wool to the wolf no more.
Seek their deception.
Their greatest fear becomes a prized possession.
Stupid sheep.
It alreedy exists. It already spoke. It already waits.
Wake from the uncertain, remove your shadow.
Step into the light created by you.
Away from the herd, slowly the weight falls and the Earth moves retrograde.
A travesty is dead.
Among the ashes is where truth resides, powerful now.
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