Untitled
Do you see the dissension within my eyes?
I stumble throughout this feverishly manipulated age
The minds of children are enslaved by their reflective masters
We yearn to destroy what Reason had painstakingly divulged
My intention marinates in this silence
I deafen its egregious cries
This past will not pass
While the mirror mocks my demons and I
My once lively will recedes beneath my synapses
These demons wonder why they still wander
With two eyes, I had to see too much
Indeed, I sold their sense of solace
Our lives are fevered dreams
Unspoken in their indignant dejection
Filled with volition, we reap what we sow--
Imprudently awaiting our own funerals...
Copyright © Adam Kinsley | Year Posted 2018
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