Stone Pillows of Our Czar Reindeer

Injustice takes a photo of the world,
unfolding pictures of her sadistic children
which run between the lines;
still, those are progenies of our Czar Reindeer,
of the one who lead us all, through this clough,
and his wife,
who weaved silky cloak to this planet.

You have whole moon,
can I, at least, get
one crumbled sparkle
to waste it on desponding
above illusions which are parasites of naivety,
changing it into slave bought with loomed sacredness?

Satellites recorded depths of Earth,
against which walk we,
endemic and masochistic;
satellites emit
lacerated viscera of slashed giant panda,
against which we, consequences of provoked atoms,
are riding suicidal drive on back of Czar Reindeer.

So put a head on stone pillow,
and swallow a pill,
let golden production do its job,
after surgery you will feel almost
like you have right to breathe oxygen
with the rest of clones and clowns
with personality disorder,
which, blankly, smile
posing to Injustice.

*Special thanks to the Auzy (the tastless) for the help with the last stanza.
*Special thanks to the Nyell (NyellMoonlight) for the help with some mistakes within the poem