In such
a time as this...
our breath it breaks
like broken reels,
so real
yet unforgiving.
The days quick fade
to daze,
and time it takes
our frittered cents,
to leave us broke
and senseless.
Now we're poor
and poured,
still deeply,
into lusty puddles
to drown
in parched madness;
still thirsting
for vanities
that run like sewage
through the veins
of the vain.
We've learned
to sow to "self";
though death will reign
and rain, and
rain
(where life won’t grow)
once we're
deceived enough to praise
those beasts
who live to prey on us.
Still,
in stubborn will,
we'll dig through filth
to find lost treasures,
once so precious;
yet we knew when we buried them
that they would
rust
and so quickly
fade away.
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