Rotten



I feel,
But I am numbed.
By the scorch of agony
On my brother's back.

I see,
But I am blinded.
By the blaze of power
Man threw overhimself.

I hear,
But I am deafened.
By the thunder of voices
That clamor for change.

Yet I choose,
to add to the scorch
to feed the blaze
to ignore the voice
I remain to be a pathetic sight
For I am worth nothing
And when i rot in peace,
Only maggots shall pay me homage.