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Rated: E · Poetry · Tragedy · #2105872
A short poem.
I have heard the voices of freedom
cry out
Madness, paranoia, psychosis driven
Oppressed by their freedom
so that the younger ones
the future generation
are hailed as kings for moving a pebble
They rip, tear and shred (with ease)
language and definition
and make all things different
and do time’s job of change

Scribbled, Scratched gibberish; and
spray painted caricatures - for no point -
to make a point
i was here.

Forwards the progression rhythm
song of the generation
remove the past from now
and burn it so it’s ashes are in
everything. and repeat
the repeat generation

i have heard the voices of freedom
cry out
lunatic, raving; desperation driven
for their privacy
posted, printed, patched
on pages and walls and waves
leave me be
again i ask
leave me be!
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