A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth.
Vessels of Wrath
“I am”
Such a phrase to inspire
A line of products
And advertisements upon a podium
The fickle moon waxes and wanes
Hands clasped like we’re part of the same machine
Animatronic diaphragms wavering and pumping out new followers but
No leaders
It’s a cause to die for
A flame to lick with the pink of your tongue
But not to hold in your mouth
Because it’s a sellers market
And the unspoken, invisible deals for the house
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