The First Four Lines Are A Warm Up

Excessively spacey 
Partially relevant
Racy elements
Invades with chains 
Enslaves enclaves
Of maidens 
Of brave men
Of sons of masons
Who sell
Well welded mazes
Whose daughter’s wash up their laces
In soap and water 
Complacent fodder
For rape and slaughter
Staring toward glaring hate
At coffins 
Comprising sights that will not abate 
That they cannot escape
Thinking of it so often 
That they are not unbothered
But rather blinded by the robber
Reminded of the lie that fate could offer
Binded in fear of protesting beyond 
The yonder seeing
Fitful coughing human being
Whose voice is nearly speaking
Who’s severely heaving
Barely breathing
Precariously perched 
On the precipice of leaving this earth
After their precious, fatally injured, 
Infants have bled in the cradle of self worth.

The End

4 comments about this story Feed