Gord

2016-02-02 12:00 am

The mired child, spoiled
Mildly retarded by choice.
Spends his days locked inside.
Wishing wildly of days gone by,
Punching the god of his desire,
Cursing the men of his design.
A life not spent fighting,
as it appears to the self.
Shuffled between arenas,
Destined for the cell.