Bias creates a smog I can't see through. A bowed head in a white room doesn't hide much from a world inhabited by an enlightened populous. They wake from a sleep and look upon a world under a spell, who's leaders set in motion perils, where tanks rove to catch mischief that pens start. In a place unfamiliar, I try to conquer all but fall myself on a sword of my own manufacture. Sordid were my own thoughts, fueled by a fault line of fears. Pull me from the mass grave of regrets I've uncovered.

I feel ths bro

Well written.