Desolate

"Desolation" the innocent cries
The world a painted map of allegiances
Sprayed in coughed sputters marking corner market walls
Laid against the blockade a mass of tattered clothe
With short raspy breathes pulled across pained lips
A hovel of junk to give the insane cause
"Junkie!!" cries the hypocrite
There sleeps injustice in that tone
Flesh blood and sweat dying beneath the rags
A reflection of burden made humanity
I stop and watch the progress of shutters
All the while rubbing fresh picks beneath my shirt
A reminder of the dust beneath my feet
The wind carries stench like fallen cherubs
Tangy hints of piss and sick punch my nose
I see the mirrored quality of this visage
Smell his casualty upon my skin
"This is my soul" I cry
To a congress ion of rats, scurried by my discourse

Reviews

[Butterflymom]

Thank you so much for sharing this piece. It is very powerful, and well done.