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
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