perfect pitch of paranoia.
Tone of chimes within the mind.
Like church bells ringing out of rhyme,
murdering the time that we had left.
Freedom exploding in rockets' red glare.
Created in colors to wash, never wear.
Drunk people walking their dogs down the street.
Wishing that they'd get another treat.
Fire crackers bursting all the seams.
Not enough quiet to sleep or to dream.
Listening to neighbors scream
obscenities at one another.
Hit delete and watch it all come back.
Another name, the same old quack.
The little children caught their cancer.
Too many questions never answered.
Double all the pain and start again.
You saw it on the news, it must be right.
While your teenager attends another orgy.
They caught it from the aftermath of clergy.
The baby-sitter's high on marijuana.
Afraid to walk down to the corner store.
To reach a perfect pitch of paranoia.
Pretending that a life like this is normal.
To realize too late - that now it is...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .