Frankenstein

 

"Monsters, posers, ashes of air,

Why isn't anybody left, why isn't anyone there?

Doctors, madmen, legions of doom,

What have you done all day, but stare around in your room?

Clinics, hospitals, the most meticulous air,

If you are not making them, why is there one over there?

Politics of madmen, the land of the dead,

Why in place of high worlds, do we get nooses instead?

A capital crime, to pick at one's bones,

Why the rich sit around nightly, and politely trade thrones.

The tyrants are smiling, they have defeated their sheep,

for the world is now monsters, left to static and sleep."

Poetry