Air currents grind, monotony.
Image defined, static scene.
Adherents bent opinionless
Following scent of
commoness.
Fit the latest rage,
Whatever stains the page.
Then fears allayed,
Of lonely shade.
Wheels, they
grind... industry.
Insipid finds, out of key.
Opinions bent toward standard waves,
Bleaching out divergent shades.
Mock
integrity.
Veiled hypocrisy.
Ironic finds,
When selves decried.
Ban expressiveness.
Bold repressiveness
Dictated by
minds closed tight
And walls that shut out light,
And so we have static acts.
