in the shade of butterflies
A small minded pack of blind monsters
shatter their mirrors - igniting hateful fires
propaganda harlots donning rancid bellows
conspiring to divide the good people
into a petrified state of yellowing silence..
The fires root ever closer-burn hotter
bellows pumping faster-ever louder
the calloused stride of the good people hobbled
diversity of mind- socially castrated
the good people flee to the fleeting shade
of a butterfly the prophets call faith.
...and within that dappled faith they wait
doubling down on automatics and hollow tipped gods
planting cement angels in razor wire gardens
bracing for the tribulation-praying whole heartedly
for the day after tomorrow.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2021
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