people, we seem to be drawn
to that which makes us miserable.
Mumbling in the moments
when we aren't quite awake.
Nightmares that continue in an
undulating quake of time and space.
They move us and we dance for them
like puppets on a string. An aftermath
of misery is all they ever bring.
Individuals that don their selfishness
and wear it like a moral value.
As if the world revolved around
their awful, little need. Seeds planted
into future generations. Weeds ripped out
with their flowers still in bloom.
Denouncing all tradition, as a fear
of death inserts itself in them.
Acting out as if they were immortal.
Courage turned to emptiness inside.
Riding high upon a tide that no one
individual controls. Calling themselves
whole. Even as they rip it all apart.
Pushing all their suffering
upon a weary other.
The death of love,
indifference of the heart...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .