dinner is done and I'm not full yet,
discard remnants of food and feelings,
forgetting freedom and the ideals of war lines,
forget about the world so you can have a good time,
i'm ashamed to be able to have a bad day,
While i'm at work others are slaving away,
They work till they die, and i cry for spilling the ashtray,
never to think of feeding myself let alone a baby,
we live in a world shrouded by our own confessions,
rather than taking our lives as a good blessing...
Author notes
i eat my own words i am only human
A contest entry
- Ashamed to be Human by Death of the Author.
450 points, ended August 31, 2008, 34 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Ashamed to be Human - Collection Point I by Death of the Author.
450 points, ended September 20, 2008, 9 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Not your conventional poet but a solo musician also
Comments
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The ashtray line seems a little long and makes the flow stumble, but I like what you've written and the ending is especially searching.
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I think the only way to view life is as a blessing. There are good days and bad days but at least we are alive. This is a nice poem. Thanks for sharing
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