So it just wasn't is,
No matter disease of body or mind,
Like they didn't exist,
Walking on bloody stumps, just freshly hewn,
Sun awash on your smile,
Loved ones spit in your face, then skip away,
For all the hurt, may's well be paper files,
All 'round you poverty that shouldn't be,
Poor, beaten by police,
Caress your skin as you dismiss it all,
Like a soft summer breeze.
The worl'd be grand!
The sights be glorious,
Whole palettes of new images to see,
Not sullied by regret or abhorrence.
No comments:
Post a Comment