Obsura

And then everybody fell

Into oblivion

Thinking the world resplendent

The cynical gone (Dead)

Everybody languid

Were these happy times?

Were they?

Were they?

 

The government’s decisions

Obscure and obscured

Was everybody bourgeois?

Or poor, and stricken?

But don’t question them

You’ll become a debility in their system

 

Love is on hiatus

There is no ‘sickness’

Even acrophobia is ‘banned’

But nobody knows that

Terse words are used, with false nationalism

 

There is no respite

Epistles are examined,

Epistolary relationships impossible

Therapeutic things nonexistent

 Rebellion is stabbed bloody with their lance

The government is poised

But internally boorish

To believe in them is ‘right’

To question is ‘heresy’

The acrid smell of burning flesh is common these days

 

Citizens of this land

Are they happy?

Have they ever experienced

Poignant times and laughter?

To independently think is to die

 

Are you happy?

Am I?

 

Reviews

[Sylvana]

Butterflies though
so beautiful