Our castle, undefended, sits in its dry moat,
waiting for attack that never comes,
while suited-and-collared livestock sip coffee
and surf the net
in stores where shelves of books
are a nice background
and nothing more.

Our rocks, our broken wall, a thousand years loyal,
host the scribbles
of overstimulated, undernourished minds,
exercising frustration
at a system that demand of them
things it won't let them have.

There is a battle,
but our castle,
pinned to an archer's sleeve,
will not know it.

How we wait.