The New Minority

As time progresses and facades dissolve
The singing sirens now scream their songs as the passing banshees stay silent
Contemplation gone
Thought provoking nonsense is all that's heard amongst the muted geniuses of our time and age
Repetition is the new air
Breathe it
Live it
Be it
You can't fight the dominance if it already won
Just sit back and succumb to the pretense that is our current genre

Time's Sharpest Scissors

Marionettes with pretty faces the puppet master had painted
Whose strings span out in all directions for anyone to play with

Mindless actions
Manipulation
The bonds grow weaker as the threads unwind
Slowly breaking
A weakened state
All you needed was a pull in the wrong direction

Threads undone as the flailing limbs fall
A hard surface to land on
Used and worn
The once perfect toys are now thrown and tossed in the pile

Collect dust
Decay into matter
The lost toys of the bunch
They were all once worth so much

Marionettes with smudged, cracked faces discarded by their master
Whose strings unraveled, and completely torn
The kind no one wants in their collection

 

 

(comments are lovely; constructive criticism is welcome; bashers will be shot on sight)