Ambiguous Lines of Discontent.
by B_Lid
We are all oblivious in our own attentive way.
A babylon of fanaticisms call, in a dark song you must pay.
We are all content in our own entangled day.
A bravado of neologisms appall, in a stark verity you have kept.
I'm removed from society, in insouciant splendor, I wept.
A creation of serendipitous intent, in a dream impending you have crept.