Reign I

It was always two minutes to midnight
In the land of the cowardly, those fools
Who had spent their lives giving in to fright,
Resigning themselves to living as tools
In the hands of selfish and simple men.
Their world was inconstant, shifting as soon
As they looked away. Their masters condemned
Them to a waking nightmare, lying, spoon-
Feeding them meals prepared from broken glass,
Fabricated from falsified figures,
Seasoned with warfare (global, racial, class,
Whatever worked, whatever would trigger
A search for the dark and not for petals
In our world, this green valley turned metal)


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