Voluntary Blind
What is this race I am in?
Struggling towards destruction
Must I break everything?
Mind, body, soul
Blind strangers stare at me,
Pointing to endless roads
Map of sorrows and delights
Selling the secrets to grounded flights.
With conscience Blindfolded,
I sell my soul
To kill the meekest pure soul.
Copyright © Brian Olinger | Year Posted 2005
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