Isolation
Isolated redemption
tempting fates addiction
to sampling a selection
of seasoned dreams of perfection
Hushed whispers of deception
silencing the voices of inception
leaving barren the fields of conception
Slighted hope falling to misconceptions
of what it means to find, a forgotten vision of corruption
Standing on our hands in abstraction
trying to pass as part of this grand contraption
Yet lost are we to our own convolutions
and alone we stand in our own situation
Alone we fall due to our own desperation
Afraid to take a hand of desperation
Reaching to pull us from destitution
we let go of our own constitution
And sleep deeply through our own destruction.
Copyright © Samuel Owen | Year Posted 2024
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