Both hands are tied on strings.
Powerless, manipulated.
Distinct colors, diverse shapes.
An array of audience, they can
influence, they can subdue.
I can’t break free. I’m a lethargy.
Am I simpleminded? When I can’t even
clench a knob, can’t even open a door.
A failure that is perceived.
To rectify a misconduct is valor,
to defy a divine rule is misdeed.
The coward inclines to a faulty
standard. And his spirit is snared
in the domain of a cold-blooded king.



About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
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