A brain inflamed, misfiring,
Closed loop of despair on repeat,
Palpitations keeping time
An off beat composition of fear in overdrive,
A heart tired of feeling,
A soul tired of being,
A rented room full of tears
And empty cigarette packages
An artist without a canvas,
A musician without a note,
An angel of empathy
Absorbing shit that can’t be flushed.
A body aging, aching,
A life of privilege and observation,
So much selfish destruction
And anger.
A life lived in relative safety,
Wishing the same for all,
Witness to monstrous atrocity
With no way of stopping it.
A world turning, oblivious,
Spinning and not caring,
About the pretentious humanity
Defiling her.
A poem, a pointless exercise,
Sounds interesting to the ear,
Will not heal the wounds
That bleed freely, hate and fear.
Love weeps, and waits for a better day.
Excellent. One does, indeed.
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