Does it even make sense?
You climb for the seat of
power and forget who is
responsible for putting you
there.
If you go to war with the
world, you really go to war
with yourself.
And a barren land, desolate
with traces of lives long gone,
is nothing. What do you rule?
I suppose you rule the dirt,
and I suppose you rule the
world and the land around you.
But the wind can rule the dirt
better and longer than you can,
assuming that your finest sophistication
and well-maintained systems survived the downfall and
collapse of the human race. In truth, you only ever did, and even now,
rule yourself.
YOU ARE READING
TO FAIL SO FLAWLESSLY
PoetryEDITS IN PROGRESS: A prose-poetry chapbook exploring themes of insecurity, doubt, lost fabrics, and what it means to fail so flawlessly.
