The appraisals of the lords bestowing them with self-worth and divine encourage drown in the sea of self-doubt and uncertainty.
How far will the level of self-esteem cease its breaking point?
How long will the demise of the citadel of the introspective of nonexistent self-worth continue to infringe upon by the inner demons and eternal damnation of not being an essence of perfection?
The cursed hands of false leadership can only go so far.
The loyal persistent lower mantle worker slaved with fire and explosives to a rigorous amount of work and dissatisfaction by not being optimal for productivity's sake.
While the kingdom of their domains become riddled with suspicion and fear, the world grows exponentially small.
Love. Desire. The thirst to shatter the citadel of imperfection and rebuild it as the citadel of perfection to the biases of the artificially crafted world that the elder gods deemed worthy by the fork of mere salvation.
Only to relapse on the asphalt of the kingdom that swallowed them whole in self-deprecating convictions of their impaired psyche.
The imploding hunger that is getting them to sway into the intoxicating rhythm of empty promises and fulfillment of the job they return to every single day.
A job of living, stabilizing, dying and repeating as the days slowly converge into a single moment of nothingness.
The joys of the touch and voice of man will be no more than muffled white noise as the key cards and buttons chime to the voices of all things that no longer exist only tokens of ignorance and aggression.
Movies flow through the mindset of how to renovate the citadel of imperfection to become the perfection of the owner.
But nothing wants to phrase into the mind as a tangible belief that the citadel would ever be perfect.
Sadly, that is the life of how the working class became restless and manage to somehow to find something that works in the citadel of imperfection.
Maybe it is the love of others.
Or the self-worth in themselves.
Maybe even the world finally accepts their citadel of imperfection.
Believing that their citadel of imperfection is finally...
Perfection.
YOU ARE READING
Citadel
PoetryI wanted to dropped my guard and give you something to read from my infant days of writing poetry until now. I hope you enjoy it.
