SITTING BY THE WINDOW BLIND
I see the whole world rushing by in a haze
The rain weeps over a nearing doom.
The shore with heavy heart sighs
At our devastating end. We are without our heads.
Yet we live.
Live? Yes. We are living corpses:
Bloods in the eyes of a baby because of milk.
Barefooted; mothers dance as if on nail piles.
Fathers are what’s left of a dried biro.
Tears pour from our eyes as we bolt
Bolt? No.
We are stuck in the midst of this chaos.
Children grow to believe in the ‘perfect tomorrow’
Where they own the world and live as kings
but they grow
& reality brings them crashing from the sky.
But I still sit by the window blind
Watching the cycle continues
With no messaiah in sight.
Thanks for reading so far Darling
I can't wait to hear your view concerning this poem, don't be a ghost reader😥
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Mi amore
N.B- NO PART OF THIS WORK CAN OR SHOULD BE COPIED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION, IT IS TOTALLY MINE AND I RETAIN COPYRIGHT
Thanks.
YOU ARE READING
The Land of Limbo (COMPLETED).
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry written in protest to the silence I carry in the real world. My Lala Land. Here on I can be myself, marking out the battlefield in ink. For fellow comrades, who also carry protest of silence in the real world, feel fr...
