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Rest your throne, put to sleep the dying moans
of children slaughtered, of children drawn,
and quartered in spirits, to mental drones.
As slaves we think, maybe we are
Slaves to voices in our conscience
Slaves to be freed from inside,
Inside the stages of pretense stages.
Peasant futures, debts are owed,
Lives are taken, no coin bestowed.
As abstract concepts muddle thoughts,
Where does one freeze, when does on thaw?
Diverge yourself from what you are
Transcend the virtues of present tenses
Let us not reopen scars
Let us not find our men, lands and titles as the same
Your mind as a prisoner
knows not how a prison errs
To justify one's murders
To find life's unseen borders
released September 14, 2012
all rights reserved