We? We are angry.
Teardrop children,
Storms with skins.
Happiness in fleeting moments,
But really,
Even then,
We are broken hearts.
Dead stars.
Congregating illegally
(But invisibly)
In smoke-filled bars.
—
With a world hell-bent
On crushing us,
We turn to drugs and booze,
And compare ourselves to streetlight bulbs
Too dim to be of use.
(I’m not good at titles so suggest one if you want)
Published inMain
This poem speaks of the children that turn to the darkness of this world. I like the concept of this. If I had a title for this I would call it, “Life as we know it.” Just my take on it. Good piece.
Thank you, Jarid. I like that title 🙂