Regain Your Conscience Poem by Jack Shimmin

Feel a softer surrender, crash upon your own shores; not the districts of the vendor, creator and sender, not the doors to under-scorers and saboteurs.
Further back the fighting conscience, a rebellious core; glowing red in the face of the free absence, again missing the one vital score.
Where is my mind? Faces of such glory, hidden tyranny in its veins; masking an ability for the telling of stories, my story, instead lingering pains; mocking the very ground we tread.
No. You need not hear the whispers, need not worry about their aim and sonar; listen only to your own beat, to be cleaner and crisper.