Death And Depression

So tired of the bloodshed streets
And heads as if on a pencil tip
So tired of the new born babe
Sores infesting its ears & eyes

I retch, gag, and release putrid air
My stomach bulging with nothing 
Beady eyed rats are not to be seen
It is life and death for them also

For naught a rock is left un-licked
And I watch as my neighbors
Be slaughtered like ‘Stephen’
For the meat on their bones

Depression is like a plague
Fever runs high-------
And doors are stapled shut
With iron bolts and nails.

No man is compared to Hercules
For it is a ‘no mans land’
We all, have turned into beasts
With hollow eyes and no bird of hope

We are all bulging bellies
And sacks of marrow less bones
Sucked dry by the brother of peace
Killed off by ‘the great depression’


By G.H.C

Jan 23 08