It wanders lacking direction, often impaired, battered and worn.
With seemingly no destination in sight, its operator becomes torn.
It may prosper or fade in time, only the things it loves it is sworn.

One moment it's somber and menacing as it spins with hate,
The next it's angelic, occupied with sunshine and fate.
Influenced by everything, it deviates at an astonishing rate.

The complexity of its contents remains hidden, a mystery to most,
While others escape and take flight, like an eagle from its post.
If declared superior, to its innovative genius all will gather and toast.

The capabilities are endless and there are no two the same,
So sadly we succumb when attempting to tame.
We engage in battle but frequently fail, a violent tug of war game.

Incredible with power is this entity no one can see.
It weeps for attention, desperately clawing to be set free.
Why are the ones which are evil constantly unchained by our key?

Individually owned yet many choose to sell,
But mine is my own and the dark shall remain deep inside its shell.
May a remedy be recovered for those afflicted while under a spell.

The most intriguing of instruments, adept at guiding even the blind,
Yet when tragedies forge, rhyme and reason seem exhausting to find.
It's the author of chaos, a nuclear force not a soul can rewind.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem