Snakes lurk in fog,
slither in early-morning venom,
we’re obscure beasts,
unfit for mortal society;
we’re traitorous,
vapor leaks from depths,
covers fields of blurred symbols
we’ll never reach promised lands,
they do not exist;
the messiah who promised them
was a fraud, a death-dealer
covered in scabs
visibility is low,
we go slow – crawl
for the misfits we’ve known;
tell them not to come for us,
we have better plans
to end this folly
with our own hands.
(Photo by Dimitar Donovski on Unsplash)
Wow 😳
Thanks, David!