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We stand proud, backs straight, face forward
To the king who has the first laugh.
March on in this sea of blood, bright and dark
Bled from fingers we've no control over.
In this land of kill or be killed
Judged by the difference in failures and luck
Ruled by gold and monarchies false
Destined for the unassuming butler
And made with glass, no clay
I cannot change who I am.
Yet my centuries from sand
Shifting rocks, moving, playing, basking
In the sun
Still linger
From before I was reborn
An act of treason
the son of a red sun.
Stand before the pits of hell
Life and Death lick my feet
Enticing flames filled with promise.
In I dive, not free, not dead, not alive
But changed.
Placed here again, in the same formation
The same battlefield
The same allies and enemies; they are not like me.
Yet it is not I, but this queen and king, who lead us into war
Not I who wears the crown
Not I whose name carries the heavy beasts of burden
Not I whose rank is respectable
But undesirable.
In the corners I shall stay
In my palace
Empty and transparent
With a locked gate.
I shall not cower in fright, but hide in plain sight.
Some will look, some will not
No one wants the middle.
Straight ahead, backwards, left and right
Such directions in life are not understood.
Aim for mediocre
And no one will aim at you
A fair price
Amounting to a difference in kind.
YOU ARE READING
THOUGHTLESS │✔️
PoetryThe words The petals On a flower that Thrives by appearance Is only Will merely Be a flimsy Taste of what's inside Why price By the eyes The symmetry Of flawed beauty As though As most Are weighed by Thoughtless ideals For those Four arrows A sma...
