Sound drips down
in a pear drop frown
and the wind down window
in the see-through gown
is so tight bolted
that her lips are purple
and her tears blood-salted.
On the street
eyes flicker
as the neighbours bicker
about just how sicker
can a human get.
And fly-black fungus
just grows and flows
round the fickle house fence
that was no defence.
Upstairs
gossip rapes her remaining sense
and leaves her game
for the six o'clock news
and the virus views
of no one she knows.
But, wrapped in red paper,
She continues to bruise.
-
Author:
Keith (
Offline) - Published: January 29th, 2022 05:17
- Comment from author about the poem: I can never understand how someone can treat another human being so badly....especially a woman...and how the press and society jump to conclusions.
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 29
Offline)
Comments2
Sadly, they are just plenty of sickos out there, and for some reason they seem to have rights. As for the press, truth is an inconvenience to them.
This happens so much and it is not just physical violence mental violence is as bad.
The press only show us the bad news!
Andy
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