Author: Ritt
No Rational
Like dead animals on the side of the road.
My eyes are fixated on the forlorn
Loss of decency. Like damned digits, in an unknown code,
Of honor lost. No chance of being reborn.
Terrified of being cast off and forgotten;
Aimless in strife and tragic fall the same.
Sight bending sparks, faded and misbegotten.
Like the tortured tangled claiming of blame.
Strangled, distasteful history ever present;
In the morose sadness of happiness feared.
Learned abstractions, are carefully incessant.
As if hate is acceptable if commmonly shared.
Nigger, spic, nip, chink, donkey, kike, and wop.
In heavens good name, when will it ever stop?
by rich
by rich
HOME
by ritt