Epigram ‘n Aphorism Samwiches

The Spun

They sewed his eyes shut before he could see.
Needles plied the permanent skin,
year in and year out whenever
he started to question.

The world ever evolving as he was spun,
revolving on merry-go-rounds,
flung himself to the dirt
when he was in doubt.

They stitched his lips together after he spoke
truth he seemed to be feeling,
before he could scream and espouse
whatever this was about.

A carnival unending, lead by his hand
to their Wonka vendors spinning sugar.
Colorful cotton melted on an elated tongue,
and no more tears or shouts.

They shoved all he could digest down a willing gullet
before all haunting visions and redacted words
caused him further unrest.
He indulged samplings filling him fat.

When freaks come to town, he joins right in
wondering which will be his true friend.
His realization in funhouse mirrors
reflected a monster materialized, and no turning back.

Repent to a world that builds up a boy
and tears him down as man over and over,
until stitches of guilt and shame burst
from a dam they made?

Be the monster they electrified? Pillage any or all
who mock or resemble a disfiguring surgeon,
forcing him to cave in the dark,
a cancerous beast from hell?

Where are your angels?


3.3.22
set to preferred but needs work.
3.11.22
set to public, needs more work? 0 views.

Life's not pretty. We've been sucking down their lies meant to protect the dimwitted for years until we realize we should have navigated the ugly parts of the world before fully drowning by our own ignorance?