|Title:||Pieces of You|
Blind man stumbling through the labyrinth |
Itís a dead end alley with every turn he makes.
Propelled exhaustively by his warped perception
He spirals deeper into the fire of the devilís dominion.
Pressed and positioned into the decaying mold
Of satanic people's caldron of control.
No sense of identity has he left
The tapestry of his life was woven by the best.
Critical of his every course of action
The rats' stares have too become degrading.
The park bench is his favorite companion
Itís compassionately speechless to his pathetic presence.
And how they all have such expectations for him to bolster a new reputation
One that satisfies the countless masses that stained his face using varicolored paint.
Thrown then into the circus ring for all to see the new replication
Dancing precisely to the ring leaders call.
Posing fearlessly as the swords hurl aimlessly at his flesh.
The piercing can no longer make him digress.
For what has a man if he cast out his soul for the satisfaction of the matriarchís hold?
And in the end would it have been worth the attempt for him to unravel the tangled ball and find himself as his maker called?
Will anyone acknowledge his path at all or will they relentlessly mold the clay precisely their way?...