Domestica
So clearly do I now see how dirty we have become.
To impregnate an ideal so sinister.
Hypocrites raped the innocent.
Reaching out to extending arms all was lost to reality.
Returning to the cog in the wheel, the cycle repeats itself.
Holding on to self-inflicted wounds.
We lick the burns as the parasite hungers.
Mindlessly festering against the chain and stake.
Eagerly awaiting the hand that guides the way.
One by one they fill the streets.
In that moment it was bred in domestication.
A filth so vile the senses screamed to erase.
Burning the flesh to rid the disease.
Scars left in anguish to the faults of our own.
Copyright © Nathanyal Rivers | Year Posted 2011
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