WHICH OPIUM?

 Which Opium?

Our comforting words are muttered by the idols we create in our heart.

We gain nothing but the hope for morrow.

We thistle the sound of war as to preach our identity.

Obviously, we are humans but not humanity.

We lost our consciousness to the feeble minded.

Orators the standard we keep, worth falling of our corrupt nature.

Our lives is far better than the separate clothes.

We need knitters to thread the loose bond.

We need an Identity not an anaesthesia.

My contribution through a short poem.

By Sage Adeplus 😉