The Moribund People

The broken minds are for the mad

They say

And shun it like a dog astray

I know nothing of such a lie

And neither did he

Blessed be the unmasked enemy

Of the righteous content mass

Some suffer to the point

Where they grow numb

Where they grow numb

Others are so numb

They deserve to suffer

He wrote his life in blood

Reaching for a star beyond

Which I, the writer, do not know

What was - is - or shall become

Where he showed courage I saw shame

As I mirrored him in the common eye

Of the herd

Little did I know

That when the world turns its monstrous head

Away

It reveals such an incredibly lonely place

Where all is too much, too little

Too much, too much

Some suffer to the point

Where they grow numb

Where they grow numb

Others are so numb

They deserve to suffer