29.04.11

29.04.11

 

Pioneers of nothingness

Like spiders

Rush their tired limbs

Underground.

The sinful stand aside

Wearing sunglasses at

Night

Who laughs with a scorn?

 

Faded lipstick is what you are,

Obsolete mirrors broke by

Powdered stars,

Bow too amongst the crowd

Its crude but true, reality wont praise you.

A peaceful breeze 

to seize a curtain mind

He still plans ahead with no remorse

Leaves the poor to smash their heads

Against broken door.

He plays with life, a game of chess

Have you no consciousness?