The Return
Pawns of a nonexistence.
Blissed by myths...
And habits of repetition.
Enslaved by fear.
Kept in position,
And conditioned superstitions.
Seeded on a planet to leech,
To leave.
As these inhabitants await the return.
Believed by those of wisdom and capabilities...
A mental advancement has been achieved.
And those who were left,
Are living up to their potential.
Expecting this they are,
Upon their arrival.
'What is so funny?
Your Majesty.'
~Oh,
Nothing.
Nothing to share.
Just humored by my own thoughts.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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