The Lyrical Elitist

We perish because we know not… #TLENews

P.O.L.

Captured, battered and torn,

tortured, ridiculed and scorned,

you won’t let me die but refuse to let live

so as I wither from famine and thirst

my soul cries out a plea of mercy.

fed off crumbs no chance to grow strong

merely meager helpings of dung provides what little

sustenance that has allowed for this go on.

my heart is hung until it gasps for its last breath

loosen the grips of the noose for a spell

and then near asphyxiation is met again.

even in peacetime no treaty allows for peace as time

marches on and I’m left with dwindling seconds of reprieve

before the onslaught of another barrage of hour long strikes.

passion bright as day blinds the night

while rats nibble on carcasses of lost souls with no will to live

and vultures hover ever vigilant of the next spent soul to

double over and lament the tragic realization that this war in whole

was futile at best.

Prisoners of the struggle

better to cage the misled notions than to be victims to the same

so as it rains I hold my pan out to catch some rainwater

to moisten my mouth.

scars and wounds

mental anguish ensues

no sweeter melody could be played when the suffering is in tune

but I cry freedom from your dank tomb

I must escape from the grasps of the few or the many that have set out to ensnare plenty

that I might save one or two

no man left behind is the decree.

 

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