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
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