I'm a man becoming set apart,
Eating healthier, not à la carte.
Concrete crumbling in on itself,
So many out there crying for help.
Empathy is dead with those mislead,
Growling stomachs and bloodshed.
Are we on the precipice of a communist fist?
The poor are just worrying about their next dish.
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Author:
Shaunmatthewcpoetry (
Offline) - Published: November 17th, 2024 02:24
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 27
- Users favorite of this poem: mati
Offline)
Comments3
Come now let us reason together, : , ; , .
If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land:
Indeed.
Good write S. Celebrities worry about utter nonsense, compared to those who worry about where their next meal is coming from.
Meanwhile - I fell over a precipice as The Birdman - argghh!! Do ya hear me falling? lol
True indeed, oh dear haha.
The oppressed outnumber the oppressors, haven’t we learnt to mark the tipping point!?
Exactly!
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