Poetic Injustice


Oh, you will hear it in the dark,

Those terrible whispers.

They always break the silence,

Like voices in the wind.


The mere thought of it complements your movements always.


The word in and of itself,

Curls upon your lip,

Such as a hook upon a fish.

Are we sure it is not bait?

But when the notion finally let’s go,

Finally relents,

Lets go of us and all of our frailty within its grasp,

We are defeated,

And so we come back.

We are that giant in their path,

Always blocking their way,

And why is that?

It is because we are staying for you.

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