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written by: Jack Wolfe Frost



I look around, with eyes now open,
At all there is, perceived, a ‘ thing’,
It calls itself ‘Society’,
The world we live in, everywhere,
It stinks.
My eyes see, my mind feels,
Landscape scarred for eternity,
Wastelands where once,
Woodland creatures played,
And trees grew.
People milling, faceless, mindless,
Slaves, locked in a prison,
Yet mindless, the bars not seen.
Torn this way, torn that,
By the whims of those,
Who do not care,
For anything.
Except themselves.
The end beckons you,
What will you do?

Jack Wolfe Frost

Jack Wolfe Frost

Jack Wolfe Frost is the Eternal Rebel; he rebels against everything which may have the word “rules” or “behave” within it, whether explicit or implicit. Born in Sheffield, UK, in 1956; he first started writing in 1982, as a hobby--dreaming that perhaps one day he might try and publish something. In his working life, he has enjoyed success in many diverse areas, including running his own company twice. Now older and wiser, he has once again taken pen to paper--looking for conformity to smash and rules to break…
Jack Wolfe Frost

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