what have I become
but a fool to play the part
a squawking head, upon bare shoulders
touting its self-righteousness
head peon, lord of nothing
survivor of stupidity
victim of self-design
allowed circumstance to dictate
my reality, my state of being
allowing myself to become less
asking but a cheap smile from rotten teeth
like a quick fuck behind the bar
turned to romantic trappings of
some falsified creation
remembering why we became
and why the wall fell
satisfies nothing
when death throes have us
and we dare to act surprised
“how has this happened to me?”

© M. Black, 2016 All rights reserved.


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