Just thrown under the bus.
The hopeless cage that continues to rusts.
Soon all that will be left is lots of metal fragments and dust.
Not caused by a catastrophic explosion.
Nothing so sudden in this daily erosion.
Times utter destruction.
You can not sense it in anyway.
It attacks us from both inside and outside.
Revelations to never coincide.
They have absolutely no correlation.
Discovery is but of the human mind.
This is deeper, darker, like a parasite it is slowly bleeding us all dry.
A self awareness dimming before next sunrise.
Are the words whom am I always too late or is it just me.
Picking the prettiest little red rose.
Is this a mere reflection of all our identities.
The living breathing unending slowly dying tragedy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ace you nailed this one once again