Neglected

You are a swarm of locusts made flesh
Your touch is a horde of hungry mouths
And then when you've had your fill
You will find new prey afresh

You seep and spread from town to town
To profess your need for love and purpose
And when they have seen true colours
In those insecurites they drown

You turn the best of us to ash
You burn up all our love and joy
And when we try to shake your plague
You will feign hurt. So aghast!

A new mask is donned to go undetected
New ideals to try on like clothes
And you will be oh so alone, so alone
Oh why oh why are you so neglected.


Penned by my hand on the 24th of Sarapin, in the year 902 AF.