The nameless lives in nostalgia.
The faceless breathes anticipation.
Regimes deaden the soul.
And they don't know whom to blame anymore.
Youth bear vestiges like ink-swill upon roving cloth.
They could run screaming,
And we would never hear.
If that's the truth in knowing,
Then what is the lie in seeing?
YOU ARE READING
Fear Like A Habit
PoetryFear Like A Habit is a collection of nine poems exploring the life of the discontented in a not-so-unfamiliar place called the industrial city. It examines the fear and anxiety that hurtling progress inflicts unto the psyche, resulting from the fant...
