The Writers Voice
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Deep within a fool's mind,
Lies a shadow,
One of blind filled delight,
And unimaginable anarchy.
Words are insignificant,
Time ignores it's priorities,
And perish within their own right.
It is at this place,
Where a poor man seeks an unattainable fortune,
The wealthy weep in their solitude,
And leaders are struck to their knees,
As the scorn of superiority,
Descends into frailty.
The sleepy fool shifts,
Initiating a separation of light from darkness,
Broadening its blackened spectrum,
As reality melts into the haze,
Stinging its eyes,
And scorching its predictability.
The face of history laughs,
While the fool,
Pinned in his exile,
Pleading for the nightmares end,
To thereby send him back,
Returning the fool to his foolish existence,
Casting him away,
Out of the shadow,
And into the light.
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