Cycle Of Madness

On the unknowing soil is sown The seeds of knowledge That the grown-up farmers fertilize With education, or is it information? The soil feels the pressure of harvesting That it must yield right and enough It must yield to make the harvesters proud. Thunder strikes it, it the rain washes And the sun often parches it arid. The tilling goes on The harder the soil, More stubborn is the tiller. The soil cracks It bleeds and can yield no more. True to its roots And what it could have been It pines for escape. What it sees None else sees What it speaks None understands The living corpse moves around An alien amongst the aliens Consigned to isolation Abandoned in asylum Innocent turned insane. Then the next one and the next one….. A harvesting cycle of madness!