Master, have mercy.
I am Master. I
Have no Master.
The planet
is atrocious.
I am It.
Planet Earth
is atrocious.
I am It.
Why is it so hard
to see
be yond peace?
Why is it so hard
to be
who you want?
The mind, secluded
in a prison rift
of copy paste
makes waste.
Where is my paper?
Where is my pen?
I write for me!
I repeat as if I
will soon
believe.
I write for me!
(logging on again)
The planet is horrid.
I am part of It.
Oh, Peace & War,
do we know it.
Yet with an audience,
my imagination
grows stagnant.
The once in abstract
gathers into form.
I did this misdeed.
A disservice.
Once a dreamer.
Now a journalist.
This one is for [redacted]
You make me want to run away.
That, is definitely a good thing.
A reminder that I never meant to stay.
