Gears screeching against each other.
Chains rattling and clinking.
Bony, skinny fingers claw at steel bars.
The smell of metal and blood mixing into an intoxicating stench.
The quiet groans of struggling bodies resonate in the dark cell.
Freedom no more than a legend.
No more.
The cackle of an eagle and
The raspy cry of a vulture
sound the same
to someone who isn't brainwashed with the lies of false freedom.
Brainwashed by the idea of control.
The clanking of a ball and chain against the concrete
is one of the loudest
clearest
sound to someone who isn't brainwashed with the lies of everything.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry For The Shattered Minds
PoetryA collection of most of my poems, which are usually quite short. All photos used were taken by me.
