The iron fist

wrapped around

humanities neck

the tick tock

of a time bomb

waiting to explode

the red rawness

of societies’

straight jacket

the drowning voice

lost within an uncaring crowd

the weight of humiliation

even he strongest knight kneels

the loose grains of sand

moulded into brick walls

the helplessness of


the coldness of

a bitter heart

the vengeance of a

woman’s  scorn

the lost pride

of a superstar

the fear

of unpredictable chaos

the normality

of constant boredom

the wasted talent

of the starving artist

the cracking rage

of the sweetest voice

time slipping away

from a meaningless life

the aging body of the superego

the powerlessness of

that last breath

the constricted freedom

the vice

that is hopelessly






MedusaMoon c2016


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