I lack the potence to fuel
the blackened pits of my bibulous eyes
for in the clinching moments of
quenching creed.
I want to find a fate that absorbs
the thirst of the dehydrated,
but all I find is hematophagy
as I slither around the dreary corners.
To continue, I'd be the venomous,
while the rest wither away
attempting to resolve the lacked morals
and heightened retribution.
Alas, they can't find a faulted gene
by any means and have an obligation
to feed on the conformed.
As they become a carnivore
of their own kind
I hold true to my own
noxious ideals as
I see the inevitable
change from blue to gray.
No comments:
Post a Comment