Served the discord up on a plate.
Eroded away entities once chosen fate.
Archaic in terms of stolen design.
Nobody who remains will ever be fine.
So pull the cord and wait to see.
Got a feeling we’re not breaking free.
For too much disaster has raged between.
Leaving nothing but a smile too pristine.
With evil intent looming just below.
All of us wish we could scream, just go!
Sever the sections with a blunt tool.
So numerous are those who can be called fool.
Perforate and commiserate that which lingers.
Disconnected and unable to feel our fingers.
What a state to find oneself in.
Our minds are trapped in a invisble spin.
Compounding failure atop flounder.
Would rather be pinned to the ground here.
For crows are quicker than decay.
Its why we all wish our lives would end, OK?
Fall like petals from around the flower.
Much like toppling drunk out of a tower.
No cushioning against the ground below.
Count and then listen for a soul to say go.
Unfortunately this world is not by decree.
And so we are left to waste away violently.
A thread woven through what little remains.
Emptiness is all this place contains.
Pick and pray that demons do not know.
Otherwise they’ll ascend claiming me, them and you.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 