Paper Kings

It hits the surface

Slowly driven into the mass

Echoing over glass

Negative energy dissipating into purity

Blood in flowing water

Wash away the pain

Shrug off the fog of the day

Strive for thought

And ignore the union

Mediocre stereotypes ensure me all is okay

Nothing groundbreaking today

In this free flowing pond of dead fish

Shades to blow out life

Lies and strife

The popularity game

Cultures manufactured into demented echoes of shit

I try to make light but I can’t swallow any of it

The small talk

It drives my brain to drink

To dumb down into the swill of bullshit

The impoverished hopes and dreams of paper kings

Trying to be better than everyone

Pull the masks of conmen over your face

Your lies, your tries, they are a disgrace

Chasing a world that is better than you…

Revolt

© Richard Withey. All rights reserved.