Editor's ChoiceMusingsPoetry

Pale Devotion

Mastermind… fleeing thoughts.
Never mind… failing thoughts.

Grips on hat,
‘What is that?’
The mind is fat,
let’s cage the cat.

We are detained
by our own will.
And the chase maintained
by the aim to kill.

Loyalty is a scorpion sting
poisoning the guard.
But cruelty is a joyful ring
cushioning the guard.

We’d be unsung
if we rot as dung.
Let’s cut the chase
and deny the chameleon face

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