There are mornings I think the world to be such a sickly place.
The people with their selfishness and constant need to pretend to care for others.
A society of scorn.
So many people and so many possibilities but we are all dropped into the filters so many times.
Wrung dry of our individualities that by the time we are kicked off the conveyor belt,
we are not ourselves.
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 2:15 PM UTC
There are mornings I think the world to be such a sickly place.
The people with their selfishness and constant need to pretend to care for others.
A society of scorn.
So many people and so many possibilities but we are all dropped into the filters so many times.
Wrung dry of our individualities that by the time we are kicked off the conveyor belt,
we are not ourselves.
Request permission to use this poem