Words won’t save you
Only you can save you
Words help but fade
Of mud stuck in the shoe
Scraping it off right away.
We all can dip in the sea
Of reality and sink and see
That some are frowning with money
All around them
and others eat bread and water
Without giving up.
Little girls die in woods
and the molester gets hanged
All little things happening
Right now behind you in a
Sphere of water and dirt.
Your green grass shines.
Others grass burns slowly,
Dries and dies slowly.
When will I reach fifty?
This world seems already dead.
What world looks away from help
something is wrong with
Some people.
Something is wrong with me
Some days.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
Words won’t save you
Only you can save you
Words help but fade
Of mud stuck in the shoe
Scraping it off right away.
We all can dip in the sea
Of reality and sink and see
That some are frowning with money
All around them
and others eat bread and water
Without giving up.
Little girls die in woods
and the molester gets hanged
All little things happening
Right now behind you in a
Sphere of water and dirt.
Your green grass shines.
Others grass burns slowly,
Dries and dies slowly.
When will I reach fifty?
This world seems already dead.
What world looks away from help
something is wrong with
Some people.
Something is wrong with me
Some days.
prose
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