sorenbarrett

The Scarecrow

He suffered for his birth

Emerging from a fixed vessel

fault lines ran through his nature

Chipped and cracked but never broken,

the shadow of his being

distorted through expectation\'s glasses

Stuffed with straw

he broke a cobweb of pain

Standing a palm in a pine forest

unseasoned loneliness tastes bland

salted with a handful of dirt

the sun smelled cold

In the blackness of its light

came the music of silence

Nurtured by rains of rejection

blooming ignorance blossomed

bearing a thick skinned fruit of insensitivity

sprouting green over a cesspool of progress

Now sated

death drives a dusty old Ford

and hell follows in a Bugatti