And when I believe that everything that I feel is real,
I set myself up.
Grasp the short straw to hear whale music
Death becomes her
Another attempt on her life
Variety is indeed her spice.
She marked it out as hers with a tank girl knife.
Neathanderals and the world are conspiring against her.
Look at the hand she’s been dealt.
Loftily she made her own choices
Xenophobic outbursts desire the harmonious pursuit of happiness.
Fear to live in the joyous moments.
Living in a future-waiting to fall from grace.
We wait for hecklers with distinctive voices
Inspired by healthy eating-
You deduce you are a moral sound person.
Just because you swerved the cake at the party
It still won’t cleanse you.
You won’t have your sins dabbed away by a whore called magdalene.
The diet of integrity lies in listening to rumbles of those living in poverty
Posted on Jun 5, 2020, in poetry and tagged Death, Depression, Emotions, humanity, morals, mortality, MY WORLD, POWER POETS, values. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.