Thin, deformed bones
sticking out dejected, rejected
Hunger feeds on their hope until
Nothing
is left, but waiting, anticipating, expecting the certain
Death that awaits them.
Charity, but what is that
given, when it has been
Discarded?
Giving no longer a
feeling that consumes you in its
Warmth,
but now it has long been tinged with
Reluctance, a tiring chore too forgotten, so
Tedious
in its goodness to be
appreciated, done.
We have plenty,
yet we have nothing. In a
Lost world, you are alone if you cannot
help.
Do not expect Life to guide you
right, when you find you have gone
left.
I cry when I think of you,
selfish and self-centered as
You are, in your
Greed.
sticking out dejected, rejected
Hunger feeds on their hope until
Nothing
is left, but waiting, anticipating, expecting the certain
Death that awaits them.
Charity, but what is that
given, when it has been
Discarded?
Giving no longer a
feeling that consumes you in its
Warmth,
but now it has long been tinged with
Reluctance, a tiring chore too forgotten, so
Tedious
in its goodness to be
appreciated, done.
We have plenty,
yet we have nothing. In a
Lost world, you are alone if you cannot
help.
Do not expect Life to guide you
right, when you find you have gone
left.
I cry when I think of you,
selfish and self-centered as
You are, in your
Greed.
Join the Discussion
This article has 3 comments. Post your own!