Genocide of the Poet

The world closes its eyes Trepidation on pen on paper Genocide of poets Beside the thrash of the society Hand in hand through the forest Of smog and haze Black and white existence Color is an obsession of the past Coffee houses become last resort To martyr’s of the creative expression Hidden in the corner Dipped hats and cigarette smoke Masks and oxygen to who remain Deceased now, animals Wedged in the headlights of a speeding car Faint, it goes unnoticed Unchanged by the trial of our hell Sovereignty Lungs crammed with damnation Sorrow for the crumbling world Forgotten times are lost eternally Dylan picks up his coat and raises a toast To those who still struggle And disappears into the mist of urban lights