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A creature
A creature, a creature of the trees but the trees are Long Gone
The underling of the underbrush is under orders. Not to go to Long Gone
Not to fear because Long Gone are any places better than here, trust me you don't want to go anywhere there
Ha why? they don't have a clear grey sky with cloned white clouds, disorder runs rampant Long Gone is societies pride
The outside floods into houses and the people are pushed into the sun with no where for their secrets to hide
They sing in their madness and eat poisons straight off the walls, the wailing wilds call for them and they respond with a pep in their stride
I warn you not to ask of them, there comes a hefty fine, and you ought to fear the feel of vines masquerading as their hair
We stand here educated in our spires made of stone, peer out of man-made portals to a world mirrored of your own
We deserve these crisp white fabrics, you'd love some furniture to match the template of the ideal home, look down at uniform fabric and be content with the privilege to "own"
We have just one ideal, one community path, keep your eyes on our prize, no not there, over here.
I feel it may be breaking soon
I feel the pressure rise
I feel the roots spreading and opening their eyes
Do you hear the rumble? Long Gone is your freedom now
For the rumble that you hear is your own future hitting the ground
Long Gone is the space for growth, of your freedom and your kin
For the concrete walls around you are almost finished closing in.
Copyright ©
Nat Alexander
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