The visionary, Atlas,
Shrugged his shoulders as he regarded
The city of kings,
Collapsed under its own weight.
Remnants of an unachievable dream
Haunt the few remaining halls,
Corrupted and skewed creatures
That feel no remorse, and
The servant girls who harvest the many dead bodies,
Like dogs, guarded by their great masters,
Who know no better that to follow orders.
And The Slaves, who obey,
Who answer to “Would you kindly”,
Governed by the Men who choose,
The iron grip of the powerful minority.
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My muse is like an excitable dog. It catches sight of totally random things and starts yapping and running around and wagging its tail and WILL NOT STOP until I write a poem about it.My poetry is sometimes based on personal experience and sometimes on other things. Aside from that, I enjoy video games (My favourite game series is Mass Effect) and the popular television show My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.