More old writing
Posted by Peter Owen | Filed under writing
Untitled
This life I lead is nothing
Hollow attempts at temporary relief
The monotonous droning of the big machine
seduces the ignorant
Safety is but a happenstance
The machine consumes them
Its hunger is insatiable
Greed can’t hold a candle to this
They are all free slaves
Shackles and blindfolds
Thunder strikes and the skies weep
The word ends with a glorious
Exit stage left
