Narrow minds

stuck in wide subdivisions

They are but hopeless strings

on a Puppet Master’s creation

Sluggish flies who barely flutter their wings

and end up in a masterful web of eight legs


No more they venture on

Words of encouragement become

actions of repose

in echoes of silent woes

They armour themselves in ignorance

Oh! Such sweet blissful ignorance

May we use one word as a shield

from a million more

So many options

yet they sit and dwell on dead crops

When light can harvest such beauty

Let the sun rot into a black seed

and fall into the palms of greed

I assure you such an opportunity

will never be enough

They will go about their day

flicking the very life source into the dust

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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