deepundergroundpoetry.com

Tyrant

 
The shell shock of your tyranny
plays violent dischord on my nerves
sings arias of madness in my head

My heart is in a bunker well out of range
and even though your guns are silenced
I'm hiding from another volley (just in case)

You were not ousted nor deposed
but weakened from within; an emasculation
of your willful rage, a slow departure of
your hateful mind

No peace, no truce, was ever called
(but then, no war was either)
no way of knowing when it began
no way to know when this disease* will end

There are no songs of peace.


(the disease I am referring to is not simple; it is a complex mix of anger, distrust and the physical and mental limitations of MS)
Written by AnnaKissedMe
Published
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