Fallen idols are people.
Not trinkets,
or statues made
to represent
unattainable ideals
of conscience.
They are teachers.
Guardians and
prophets sent
with a message
of vital importance
they cant deliver.
They are me and you.
We, who couldn’t hear it,
or who would
choose not to, in favor
of the voices in our heads,
Urging us to
keep up with the Joneses,
to worship what we hear
on …
my head is a time machine
my body is a time bomb
what keeps the pressure building?
See yourself as the femme fatale
in this story you keep reliving.
A heroine, looking for a home.
Ultimately – alone.
It’s only a role.
Great seductive charm
leading others down a slippery slope.
To where ?
To compromise all they know ?
To support and love you,
until your through ?
Everyone plays their part.
Some of them offer …