Stitching another grave,
with the thread of subliminal lies.
Stumbling away from ourselves,
blinders on, cause we're stupified.
It alll appears to be normal:
A copious canvas scene.
We all just try to be normal:
Confabulating a human dream.
Tatters of the cosmos;
reflections we can still mend.
To leave a lesson budding,
from the where your soul ascends.
Why do we choose to be this
furtively oblivious?
Perpetuating the steeple covering
sacrilegious suffering.
It seems your lack of imbibing
allegory makes you compensate.
The wagger with eternity is
emulation not to initiate.
Crucified and died for you
to rule a divine disaster.
Copper littered over emaciation,
I'll see you where it's frozen St. Peter.
©an_odd_who
A