Sonnet 04 - Circular Anarchy

Conventions of this wonderland I know

Are nothing like the wonderland I can't.

A haze of discourse separates the first

From all the rest - a rhetoric aslant.

What politic is this, a man coerced

Into a blind conviction by his peer?

Are we to lead a life of order grand

If order grand dictates from common tier?

A body's like new glass, but can withstand

The scars and beatings of mortality;

If worth is separation, we'll obey

And fight to folly, for the memory

Will we revert when colors start to grey

And in the end, from whose path had we strayed?