Cigarette butts line the streets.
The powerful cry tears as they eat the weak.
Needles and syringes our cravings fill
The traitor’s feet are running still.
The lines of desperation break through mascara.
The beggar in the gutter high on marijuana.
The high and lofty hanging on his noose
Hell’s hounds are bawling on the loose.
Chasing the American dream
We never get there it seems.
Broken beer bottles in the millionaire’s hand,
Broken, shattered, fit, young men.
Thirteen looking like eighteen
At thirty ’tis a face that doesn’t want to be seen.
Searching for the missing jigsaw piece,
That we threw away without thinking least.
Eating our own flesh in our self-imposed misery.
Reap what we sow, we cry and scream why???
Too busy fixing the future to help the present
Deluded by the beast that is yet isn’t.
Heading to a hell for the belated.
Already living in a hell we created.
Story behind the poem:
Inspired by . . . . well, I don’t quite remember now. I remember something I saw inspired me to write this, something which was a picture of desperation. Anyways, hope you enjoy it.
Car window by Aaron Gardner, noose by B.S.K., and syringe by Nicolas Raymond.