Obedience

The wanderer carved circuitous routes through a vast, post-apocalypse wasteland,
bandages bloodied and scabrous over his once keen seeing eyes.

Proudly stiff and smartly dressed, he painted a pathetic picture,
as he struggled to advance another day’s journey, at least, before he died.

Most of the blinded had had to trust a guide to lead them to purpose.
The wanderer scoffed as he thought of their trust and the ease with which they’d obeyed.

But the truth is a man who follows himself, has a fool for lord and a master,
and outsmarted by reason both broken and hampered, this man had sadly been played.

(Poetry Scales 124)  

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