Herding of the Masses
There is a disease in our species
A bacterium that feeds on faces of the weak,
A spreading paradigm of sickness and disease.
Puncturing greatness and confidence leaks.
There is a insecurity among our species,
A herder tending to his sheep,
A continuous need to follow,
Abandoning the need to be.
There is a meek shade of gray,
Staining the people while they sleep,
Loneliness with other colors,
To be content amongst the weak.
There is a set of wings amongst our species,
Forced closed and weighted down,
Feathers that speak of revelation,
Are shed in heaps throughout this town
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