Day to day,
they fall behind,
the masses overwhelming.
They toil
in heads filled with
illusions of grandeur.
Better than all the rest,
they fight on each day;
unknowing,
uncaring,
of the lives they
affect.
A dirty orphan on the street,
a broken old war veteran;
do they wipe her tears away,
or listen to the reason
behind his?
Moving much too fast
to give a damn,
this world is carried
on soft spines-
Too mechanical to feel;
too blind to know the
difference.
A contest entry
- Semi quicky, reserve a prompt (Added new prompts, a kickoff end) by Meroza.
400 points, ended January 24, 2009, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Powerful, good use of words
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