Isosceles mediocrity

Prices of truce rolling despise,

Milking its way to root of the spice.

Pneumology resting the lungs and breathing respite

Hold it to human holy insight.

You are hunted in grand

Land you stayed to remind

Of the riches and brand,

In a plan to put you in remand.

This is the breakdown of your mind.

The space is reeling and stalking your life,

Pushing its way through pruning disguise,

Enslaving the falling stars of the dice

Piling the dust of healthy dislike.

Man you need brains, borrow it for the pride,

Look like a moon swallowed in the night.

Planning to flee the bliss of wisdom,

Shooting the stars with a mini gun.

You are haunted in land

That reminds of riches and brand

You lie now there in remand.

Broken down and left with no mind.

You live in the limelight of loathsome barn.

Smiling justice, bowing to plight,

Care from the master, peace of the fight.

Blue invasion, darkness held tight,

Ruining the factor of blooming delight.

False compassion, prudence on loan,

Mule is you heir, Horse in the bone.

Pleasing expression, hunger on throne,

Landing you flaccid, consider you’ve grown.

You’ve lost your brand,

Remanded in your own land,

False blown conscience of your mind,

Your run-of-the-mill life was planned

You’ve invented isosceles mediocrity.