Fruit on a Counter

May 15, 2008
By Danny Callahan, Hinsdale, IL

I'm ripe like fruit
With things to say,
But just like fruit
The words rot and fall away.
So many questions and thoughts
Pulsate through my head.
Every day I see him pass by
In his fancy suit and tie.
How can he sleep at night
When he knows we're not all right?
How can he keep this sick oppression going?
Does he only think about himself in this world?
What about his 2 little girls?
So many words decay in my mind.
The right words are so hard to find.
I am a voice silenced by his streak of violence.


Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.



SciArc

MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!