They are the dominators
Dead leaders in the figure of life
Rotting roots buried in dirt
Reaping my darkness
To stand in the light

They are the clever bandits
Treasure whores in the shape of child
Mindless motives veiled in smirks
Stealing my assets
For selfish delight

Changing their course like a killer on the run
Shameless agents of a comic devise
Sick mentality grazing blades of grass
Artificial intelligence
Hogging the prize

The more you seek
The less I show
False information
For your ‘need to know’
Secret schemes
Faking directions
Infused in me
Your killer perceptions

Corpses of the hearts which you have seized
Are rising from their graves
False gods are falling before the devil they keep
The Earth is noshing
On the hordes of slaves

by

Amit Howard