I live my life by rote
the bile in my throat
is blankly choked down every day
to leave a proper coat
embittered yet blase
repressed by an array
of hues that once were vibrant but
disintegrate to gray
and now I wonder what
this growling in my gut
is telling me to hunger for--
which carcass should I cut
to get some game before
they shut the kitchen door;
who knew such dilemmas reigned
the pacifistic poor?
Are You Reading Me?
2 comments:
I think a human must always have a goal, something to hunger for, to give his life purpose and meaning.
I agree wholeheartedly :-D
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