To live seems a chore these days
to the young ones who, smilingly,
settle into their satin 40 years too early;
they refuse the hands that strain to help them up;
they hum threnodies like lullabies;
they pour their wine and break the bottle
on their headstones
like a good-luck blessing as they depart.
It's a plague ripping through us all.
Youth means fear now, whether we like it
or not;
to pray is denounced as cowardice;
to hope is decried as foolishness.
These rats have their fangs in our heels;
we are crippled; we are crumpling;
we are lying in the ground.
I wish —
I can't think of one thing to say here.
This is the worst part;
half of us want everything
and half of us simply don't want.
So they just take;
we don't want to stop them;
and all of us lie in the ground lamenting.
1 comment:
):
but true.
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