Those who walk about our world
With a sullen heart you see—
They'll wash their souls,
vaunt their roles
Yet never will they agree
But, O' yes! When it fills their own,
No trouble will prove to spout
They'll say the names 'till they're raw
But never will they speak without—
For the problems aren't theirs
Until the balance is fair
For that they surely require—
As once the fix is broken again
They'll wait until they desire
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Comments2
Nice words!
(thanks for sharing
imbued with that frankness
of deep insight!
forgive me, I had to try
and ink the feeble poetic reply
below)
as shards we congregate
to aggregate a facsimile
of existential congruity
knowing
a fire alarm, somewhere
will set as free
or a deafening explosion
internally
will grant us that finite
mercy...
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