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  • Writer's pictureGarathe Den


I am a victim of the mundane

How can I escape it

There is beauty all around

But I have no time to embrace it

I've replaced it, my enslavement

Just working for a wage

That has offered no engagement

And still holds me in this cage

A hermit in society

A vagabond of sorts

Sorting out my life

But there is nothing to cohort

Wandering outside the box

Of thorough indoctrination

All antics smashed in fragments

Pieced together fabrications

What fairy tales they tell you

Just to orchestrate your life

Fables all unwinding

With no morality in sight

You could be tricked to treachery

A patron never questioned

Just give them a little more control

Nine/Tenths the law, possession

Yet the wilderness inside me

It can never be contained

As I contemplate eternity

My soul has a free-reign

A limitless devotion

To the sovereign elements

Creation in an atom

That explodes in radiance

Yet I'm a victim of the mundane

My body aches in habit

Slouching in demeanor

Evading the straight-jacket

The filament still whispers

To the dancing of a shadow

A masquerade ignited

Yet I dream about the meadow

With concrete all around me

This jungle's lost its fervor

The sewers all below me

They flow in but a murmur

I won't drink the standing water

It plagues me from hydration

Yet I splash within the pools

If but to keep me from temptation

I cannot see the stars

Just the encompassing of towers

I long to marvel at the heavens

Yet this fog only devours

The avenues are crooked

In a labyrinth so obscure

With the streetlights in a flicker

Gives off a visual allure

But in the end it's just electric

And I'm longing to be free

The controlling of this city

Is just another blasphemy

Gives the illusion of a splendor

Yet I cannot ignore the grime

Nor will I become a slave

To this fictitious paradigm

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