Flow.

There’s no time for things that matter;

society does quickly shatter.

We live our lives in some strange dream;

relationships not what they seem.

Hearts controlled by some square box

that fill our lives with stone hard locks.

Those things that matter, we don’t hear

in lives engulfed in endless fear.

We say we love but more we hate;

An emotion we can never sate.

We fear to speak against ‘the norm’

Lest hate does hit like a wild storm.

Somewhere deep inside I know

is a sweet stream; a pure flow.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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