All Just Burn Outs

by Heather's Starting End


Deafening silence
Screams in my head
Blind insight
Shows me the way
As I roam through this life
Day after day

Numb to the bone
Are we all out of our minds?
Is there anyone home?

Or are we all just burn outs
From the technical age
Fast paced nowhere
Chicken pick wage

Creative thinking
Smothered and dead
Traded for production
Of the masses instead

Will Artistry once
Be illegal with time
Because it is something
That requires a mind?

2 Comments to “All Just Burn Outs”

  1. “Chicken pick wage” . . . I like it! And, by the way, I think we ARE out of our minds . . .
    Blessings . . .

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