You suffer

A plague so great it was unseen before

flesh conjured from ancient stars

we formed from networks in the sky 

other worldly beings, destined to die

No mortal spared as time passes

Born into a blackened womb

We wield minds sick in the masses

our immediate isolated tomb

Laboured with a mindless herd

we exist within the cracks

Controlled by fear and power

frail with torment, strength we lack

None the wiser if we are being observed 

hounded from the exterior 

but our own blood is hunting us down

making us inferior

survival of the cowardly 

A mass of great potential wiped

the biggest of all human experiments

shadowed by our ignorance 

Away from this you were born

into an vision of ethereal beauty

by smallest odds

you exist

Eroded by your own sick minds

you suffer, and why? 

Reviews

[Roger Turgeon]

Ah the paradox of the life we are born into and the one we make of our own choosing.