Friday, February 18, 2005


That sage was right,
for clutching alien gods,
we are but slaves of strangers,
estranged from within,
wearing a mascara of pretence.

Our growth measured by,
speed and distance from home.
Ourselves, our race,
we refuse to accept.
Sacrificing our culture,
for alien traditions.

Mimicry our trade,
these clowns that we are,
on this world stage.

And we wonder,
why we are,
the ladder’s lowest rung,
in mire.


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