This is the operation they perform
In one smooth move, they hide control from around you
In a similar, consequent move they place that same
control inside you
No anaesthesia
Apart from an illusion of freedom, side effects are
minimal
It may tingle a bit
Also, you no longer hear what is rolling from the east
The sharp rip followed by a muffled roar, carries a cry
of loss
In one whopping bang, they lose everything
The soil beneath their feet, the souls they had
Only ghosts sing with the voices of those stolen by the
bullet rains
Things from them look different
Mr. Erickson once said: "If you have ghosts, you have
everything."
However, their ghosts, they are different from those
dressed in white sheets
The ghosts here, they make the masses move, tear worlds
apart
And they stay - posted on the walls, scattered in the
wind, blended into crowds and spun deep into minds
Things, for us too, could develop into something
entirely different