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Rated: E · Poetry · Spiritual · #1440702
I wrote it on the buss ride to work this morning, so keep in mind i was kind of fed up.

The sun has brighter lights than ever,
but is lost without a world to warm.
The link to life could sever,
but none would know to miss or morn.
To hope for more is waste of breath,
but breath is waste
with hope replaced
by fated duty in it’s stead.

Gated doors where truth lay locked away beyond the reach of right.
Bated lures to lull the lowly human not to speak his mind.
For not to speak his mind,
but mind his speak is how to keep him weak
and keep the man from seeking out the freedom of his kind.
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