Agora - Phobia

Agora - Phobia

A man breaks into a sprint
Squeezes past elbows
And bodies that glint
Without arms that work
And minds that think
Timeless, tall, rusted
As if cast on a splint

Its not your world old man
We are in this gathering of fools
  
The man gets nowhere
Tumbles and falls
With no one to care
He breaks into a sob
The giants unaware
Metal pedesis flows
I hear a cry and a swear

Its not your world old man
We are in this gathering of fools

I wait for him to rise
Composed and serene
To reclaim his prize
An ounce of lost pride
Stifle the unheard cries
And lay this pile of rust
Amid dust of borne lies

Its not your world old man
Not any more ...
Not any more ...
We are in this gathering of fools

But there he lies in pain
As the giants surround
Pile the weight of pride slain
His cries cannot pierce
Tunes the sirens gain
As the metal sprouts hands
And heads gore a life in vain

I say .. 
Its not your world old man
We are in this gathering of fools

-x-x-x-

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Other Instances of Life Lessons @ Parched For Rain

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