hey who force compliance
Cannot ensure conformity.
For the living bide their time.
The herd is ravenous.
Test the tree at its roots.
Time scars the fragile rings,
Yet, the tree never moves.
See the forest hide the swamp.
The wild child of lasting death
Screams in the lucid night.
“Hell is real and lively here!”
The muse is the control.
Windows of pain push in
To the great solitude
Of unwanted help.
“I will never conform.”
They who force compliance
Cannot ensure conformity.
For the living bide their time.
The herd is ravenous.
Test the tree at its roots.
Time scars the fragile rings,
Yet, the tree never moves.
See the forest hide the swamp.
The wild child of lasting death
Screams in the lucid night.
“Hell is real and lively here!”
The muse is the control.
Windows of pain push in
To the great solitude
Of unwanted help.
“I will never conform.”
POET’S NOTE:
Part of the Truth, Applied collection.
© 2024 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
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