At this time,
in this place,
parts of me
seek to make a whole
before succumbing
to entropy
and dying comfortable.
Warning signs
painted over
with such pretty pictures.
We bought the lie,
hoping we
would avert disaster,
but it came, still.
Didn’t care for
the will of our masters,
and while so many
kept men
ran home after
their bout of sadness,
I stayed
out here
on the edge
of death and oblivion,
not yet ready to succumb.
How is
the world supposed to be
once we
purge the intrepid?
Coy and jealous,
weak and contrary.
Willing to lie,
and cheat,
and live profanely.
Seeking to suck up to
the powerful
in exchange for being
praised
and raised above others.
Power and position.
Hungry for the blood.
Profit to sell a sister,
or trample children in the mud.
So quick to slip the noose around you,
point the finger,
kick the chair,
and claim that they were never there.
Kept men,
the broken and the weakling.
No hope,
just feeding like a leech.
I sit,
contemplate my own existence,
praying I will never be
one of these.
How do we set them free?
HG – 2022
