Ivory Wasteland

My mind is my own.

My pain is my own.

I am laying in the wasteland.


They are locked in their ivory tower.

Their minds are legion.

Their pain is collective.


I’m playing in the fire.

While it burns I am smiling.

All the while, they look down on me.


They see me out in the distance.

The flames are unnerving to them.

And yet, they see me look down on them.


Their stones are cast towards me.

I have convinced myself they are hollow.

The markings are there all the same.


My stones are directed at their tower.

They are convinced they are impenetrable.

The tower breaks and shatters like glass.


We are convinced we are different.

Divided between the wasteland

and the ivory tower built upon it.

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