Do NOT read

This loathsome work of fiction is a dream of sorts...

Saturday, 6 August 2016

Decline

As I've watched others do,
And now follow them, too,
As I pass from divine,
Into one, last, decline,
I become yet another,
Who has come from his mother,
Made his own way,
And arrived here, one day,
Somersaults, by default,
Recline in their vaults,
The rhyme has decayed,
As our thoughts, here, conveyed,
To the dark, twisted eyes,
That controlled us with lies,
Until our hearts ceased working.

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