Clinging onto a mist filled hope,
that hangs like fog,
and is as easily dismissed.
Within the mist they become blinkered.
Blinded.
Unable to see the truth.
For it's the truth that will burn them.
The "truth" they seek,
lies, shrouded in myth.
A pointless story
with pointless cast.
Fictitious names.
Invented plot.
One that steals mind, body, and soul.
One that castrates free will.
Adding chains.
Stealing life.
This one is one of my favorite poems. It's a peice of my original work and if you steal it I will send hoards of angry wasps to feast upon your brains.
