Puppets not prophet's

Talk about you're feelings, talk about you're worries
Talk about these things that aren't even lurking
Talk about my demons, Talk about my wrongs
Talk about these things and don't dare move along

Hold on to all this regret, hold on to you're very own neck
Waste away you're ungrateful days
Wait to play this unhealthy game
Wait and wait to die a slave

Play and play to manipulate.
Shave and shave to participate
Don't be late or they'll confiscate
Don't be blamed or you'll be unrightfully slain

Just Walk on the eggshells so you can die a dried well

Reviews

[Lawerence Rowe]

This poem resonates with me, and yet it feels so dark, so desolate. I feel its as though the rhythm of the writing breeds its own forlorn state. Though initially unconventional, well composed overall. Way to bring the reader into the feeling of the piece!