The Ministers of Madness and the Surgeons of Suffering
Surgeons of soundless suffering, led by ministers of madness,
The dead drown whilst muttering of intolerable sadness.
Atop the tallest towers of the dark city
Aloft spires of insanity, so do they weave
the existential lies of mortality.
Where the living are led to conceive and so believe
That which is mad, continuously the surgeons weave
And knit half truths of life, disguising words of strife
with lies as their knife unto the remains of humanity.
Surgeons who cut and tear with
Words too elaborate to question or mentally bare
or visually see.
The ministers of madness, feed the masses with words
That ought to be the chirping of birds,
Words that sound near obliterate
born of tongueless mouths that art illiterate.
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