Immune to all tantalising fingers, peeling skin,
Off infected robots. They admire their reflections.
Neglecting all naked ornaments,
Shedding tears of anger, at their arrangements.
Pointlessly counting, the escaping necrophiliac’s,
Coated in embarrassing fluids. Lusting with glazed eyes.
Jumping over barbed wire, to reside in children’s cemeteries.
The wind mourns for sanity.
While sanity mourns for the miserable hyenas,
Holding white flags.