The house where I grew was burned down,
the ship I was on? simply sunk,
my past, like an old wedding gown
has been eaten by moths in the trunk.
I strove to be so independent
but lack of achievement can sting
and now I’m a badgered defendant
unable to prove a damn thing.
Someday, they’ll be razing this plant
where I wasted my lifetime in toil,
the tiny yet diligent ant
that’s crushed like a bug in the soil,
I want to be one with the swarm
but can’t find a motive to fly
if wings mean I learned to conform
I’d rather be splattered and die.
Are You Reading Me?
3 comments:
Well said, Bob.
Every one must choose his own path
This information should not be met with wrath
Advice may be given
Does not mean it's risen
Above scrutiny
On the other hand
There is no demand
You must swarm into mutiny.
Swarms after all are merely a call
To a frenzy with no forthought of
Where they will go.
It's up to you to decide
sit this one out or ride
Last one
Thanks this one was bugging me until I got it out of my system ;^)
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