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dharmistaPoems
The world inflicts wounds I don't react. Follows old diktats While I see them quiet. Treads the wrong way And the majority sway. I don't have a word to say. Encourages stupidity Motivates ignorance. Punishes you for being right. Rescuing the truth despite. Still I don't react. Kills you, destroys you Stifles your inner voice Undeserving people taste success While the intelligentsia demise. And still I am a dumb witness. Well.. I am quiet. But you never knew. An ongoing fight ensues Within a chosen few. We call them writers We call them lyricists The misfits and the poets. Fight is on As they write along. Behind closed doors. The moment you say 'Yea that's true.' We know its gone through. Their work they dont sell They are a closed door rebel. Swording with the pen. They fight battles unknown. Their work don't sell. They are a closed door rebel.
0
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
The closed door rebel
The world inflicts wounds I don't react. Follows old diktats While I see them quiet. Treads the wrong way And the majority sway. I don't have a word to say. Encourages stupidity Motivates ignorance. Punishes you for being right. Rescuing the truth despite. Still I don't react. Kills you, destroys you Stifles your inner voice Undeserving people taste success While the intelligentsia demise. And still I am a dumb witness. Well.. I am quiet. But you never knew. An ongoing fight ensues Within a chosen few. We call them writers We call them lyricists The misfits and the poets. Fight is on As they write along. Behind closed doors. The moment you say 'Yea that's true.' We know its gone through. Their work they dont sell They are a closed door rebel. Swording with the pen. They fight battles unknown. Their work don't sell. They are a closed door rebel.
dharmista
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dharmista
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
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