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phil-robertsPoems
I felt this primal urge This trance-like instinct To set things right In case I have to leave Move on, so to speak So I took my jaundiced eye And rolled it from corner to corner Of this, my situation And I felt so very small and hard Lost in largeness For cynicism is a tight thing Which allows little movement A strange kind of chastity And then, you see Changes Honesty demanded that I see more Grow, so to speak And oh, my poor sore eyes See how the children starve All over this bitter world This bitter, sickened world And cynicism did this Through the slack hands of millions Who still refuse to believe That things can be changed By Phil Roberts
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Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 1:46 AM UTC
GROWTH
I felt this primal urge This trance-like instinct To set things right In case I have to leave Move on, so to speak So I took my jaundiced eye And rolled it from corner to corner Of this, my situation And I felt so very small and hard Lost in largeness For cynicism is a tight thing Which allows little movement A strange kind of chastity And then, you see Changes Honesty demanded that I see more Grow, so to speak And oh, my poor sore eyes See how the children starve All over this bitter world This bitter, sickened world And cynicism did this Through the slack hands of millions Who still refuse to believe That things can be changed By Phil Roberts
phil-roberts
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phil-roberts
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Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 1:46 AM UTC
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