Dying on the Vine

My idealistic mind dies on the vine Day after day I worthlessly define The rightful place for the needle The steady decay of idealistic people Illusions of hope in murky pools rippled Visions of idealism effectively crippled Convening in ceremonious empty vessels Idealists left as outcasts with notions to wrestle The vine’s journey is not completely clear Strategical route marred with ignorance and fear They say culture will eat strategy for breakfast I’ve experienced nothing more firmly steadfast