Nothing can command me,
except for myself.
Control crazed
leaders lusting,
lusting for lost souls
lusting to commence control and command.
Preachers pierce
through the timid
souls of survivors
with words of wisdom.
Escapees entwine,
embracing in daring escapades.
Quietly quaint,
prisoners perform for perverted principals,
torrents of tedious tasks.
Unwantingly unwillful,
beggars beckon so,
arrogantly and ascetically.
How harebrained to harbor
a denial towards deliverance
after a tempting taste.
Freedom is faithful
to those
who nourish its need for nectar.

Softly spoken
are the whispered words
that take away breath.
Sweetly sang
are those rhythmic reasons
echoed o’er the eons.
Underneath unpampered words
lie laser-like precision.
Ruthless and wrathful
is the way the words worm their way
into our bored brains.
Belligerent yet bashful,
they tempt us
into their stinging shackles,
digging into our delicate wrists and ankles.