Chasing The Owls

Hopes have been converted to
the friability
of rust,

the naive wisdom towards
the positivity -
it's just another delivered tendency
for social fallacy;

a human heart
has been consumed
and eaten
by the insanity as such,

the only freedom left
holds in the whispers of the night forest
and the monotony of the owl's lullabies,
yet it's too hard to believe in stars,
as the satellites hurt the vision constantly...

children of gravity
with no happiness concept
are going to be free in their own prison,
and the wrinkles and peckles of granny's skin will reminisce
about the past and emerge the nostalgy to keep
the life circle turn by the same way as it always did.

Irreplaceable? Don't lie to yourself.