AN(ATOM)Y

In
The
name
of some
ethics,lame
they trap our
visions in shame.
They burn the traces
of our collapsed bones,
to feed greedy cracks
of the worldly smokes,
and array people in lanes
where even ugly doubts
finds castles to build ways
Least do they know or say
That baking people in fire
won't fill poetry-prone days.
They shape some phrases
like monoliths in cage
to spill satires burying
my strength in rage.
or choke my rhymes
anigh my weary shores
Least do they know, say
that it only lets guilt
slam their vintage
toxicity within
mephitic
door's
ray.
©moitreyee