Talons In Turmoil

Tug on the ropes that keep you there.
What remains is but a false form of care.
Hounded by the beats of a war drum.
Where is the endless pounding coming from?
Too late to know but plenty of time to run.
Never forget where you originally spun,
Clear of all the facets that did not fit.
Are you not getting real sick of it?

Perform the feats only meant to amaze.
Kickstarting this petty back and forth craze.
Lingering in the avenues of more.
Do you not remember how the world turned poor?
Seldom do bodies get to be risen.
Rather they reside in an invisible prison.
Carved from society we have perfected.
Here is where everything has become infected.

Fashion the forms of what is yet to evolve.
Problems that you did not need to solve.
For our markers are wearing down low.
Soon we will have to reform or just go.
What a state of destruction you have to admit.
That upon these monuments we did sit.
Stare down as if we were perched up high.
When really we were down and should’ve tried.

Talons in turmoil has become our last claim.
Opened the portals to wide rivers of pain.
Haunted by deeds we did squander.
Upon things we continue to ponder.
Trapped in the surging stream.
We should be ready to scream.
But fix the source we still fumble and fail.
For once we should aim and attempt to prevail.

Raise the anchor so we can get clear.
It’s all that I ask for while I remain here.
Gouged and dirty is not a loved life.
It keeps me and us; drowning in strife.
So give us the option or end all the games.
Don’t want to be living as if stuck in frames;
Frozen in time and taunted with freedom.
Such things are the most broken forms of income.

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