They are the puppeteers,
And we, the one horned Neanderthals,
Are their puppets.
Convince us to fight,
For some shallow form of affection,
Convince us to kill,
For a touch of flesh.
Eventually, we all succumb to the temptation.
Look with eyes unclouded by ignorance,
And spot out the most unsubtle gestures,
And scream with unjustified rage,
When another removes your veil of denial.
An outsider has come and ruined the fabric of your happiness,
Crucify him -- make him rue for his slander,
His wicked jaw will be closed -- forcefully,
And then from the silence you will be happy again.
Living in a blissful ignorance.
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2 comments:
you write like Usain Bolt runs
Love the simile. It works amazingly well.
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