The pterodactyl tree

We think we’re living game of thrones,
Chinese whispers,
we are fed retirement homes
satisfied with rice and beans,
jelly on a Sunday.

The clock ticks on
picks on me,
I should smash its face in

Chinese whispers,
that’s a sin
put it in your notebook.

Most will tell you it’s a lie
then they try
to disprove the truth

if that is the proof of it
the limit reached
walls breached
Citadels fall

nothing at all.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.