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.