Always in a rush;
Single longing sigh
Given to the world
Of burnouts in disguise.
Mask painted with a smile,
Pain hidden in their eyes;
Written off another day
And ready for the lies.
Morals are an accessory;
Resting leads to broken fools.
Whipped into shape with barking tongues,
That hand that feeds sees mouths that drool.
“Twenty ready to replace one”
They say to get them on their knees;
And if one should still put up a fight
They’ll be thrown about and out as pleased.
No one is accounted for,
No responsibility taken toll;
The word itself a veiled excuse
To keep them feeling new and whole.
Kept in a balance only power holds;
The brutal rule of kings and queens.
It only takes a few wires cut
To create perpetual motion machines.


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about 7 years

Thank you my brother, and lovely follow up!

Cory Garcia
about 7 years

Nice!thus the cycle
the cradle
the grave
the only way
to win
it seems
is to be
to bluff
or find
to not want to
the game

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