Dancing silhouettes twist and deform,
Pulsing as they transform and swarm,
They take on your form as they perform,
As cynical smiles blur the storm,
Blood spattered beaches stagnant and dammed,
Endless pain to be monogrammed,
Loud and chaotic screams of the damned,
Always begging to get programmed,
Those puppeted shepherd’s steer you wrong,
As they follow the pipers song,
And drawing on their need to belong,
Their imprisonment they prolong,
Shamed and herded into pens Like swine,
Moths to the flame down in the mine,
Lured to damnation, fish on a line,
A painful end, mine to assign.