C H Mackie
Millenial Murmurs Of Misanthropy
Sting it will, and sting it must,
For traitors we must hold your trust.
Trapped into what we’re worth,
By the simple act of birth
The devil waits and sits and stirs,
Watching below for what must be hers.
Sale, it screams; this liars’ pyre.
This beacon belies what we truly desire.