Beasties in cages.
Dried up minds
conspiring
newfound finds
of old disillusions.
Unknown sorrow
from silent
retributions.
If only these tears
were just dreams
instead of the women,
and little children's,
stabbing schemes.
Lock you up
for another day,
tomorrow's struggles
unending.
Sleep doesn't cure all
of the mockery bending
the very walls of your cage
young beastie.