Victims...
under the darkness
within the prey
the softest skin
pierced by the beats.
the beats of a heart
fallen victim to the beast.
ripping it in a flash
without an intention to kill.
'beneath thy shrine,
i hereby declare...
weakest art thou contemporaries
and those to come'
flashy, ornamented...yet inscribed
by the crippled poet..
a victim of HIS HIGHNESS.
sorrounded by the richest walls
enclosed within the prisons of pine
fallen short of insight
and most of all LOVE
left all alone..not a gentle soul beside.
there lies the wealthiest man..
abound in misery
was'nt he a victim of power?
little that we know...
walking with heads held high
holding our own sceptre with utmost pride...
bent to wade through all storms
shattering the intervening mist..
and yet too small as we watch ourselves
falling victims to THE BASIC INSTINCT.
Mustafa Mun
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/victims-4/
