a simple poem for the rats
by ThedominiqueofregressioN
depressing cities.
depressing jobs.
depressing train stations.
depressing streets.
depressing homes, houses.
depressing people.
depressing lives, souls.
depressing cover-ups,
lies and fake smiles.
depressing body composures.
depressing malnourished
street children, stray dogs and bums.
depressing skies.
depressing movies.
depressing books.
depressing stories.
depressing music.
depressing real life stories.
depressed writers, artists,
working class heroes, soldiers,
students, mothers, fathers, cousins, brothers, uncles, sisters, priests, pastors and sewer rats.
life doesn't do much.
problems, shades, nostalgic memories that you never thought
you have.
you can choose to be happy,
but the world will remain
the same;
you may choose the lifeless path,
and the world will show you its true colors.
death brings us closer to one another. . .
if it's not our own.
you can have many friends,
as many as you want;
the perfect roster for your funeral
the world remains the same,
but you can choose any color
you want to paint it,
but the world remains the same.
the rats in the sewers knows
this too well.
they only know one color.
one place.
one same foul smell that never gets bad or good.
rats are immuned to depression.
some humans turn into rats
but the world remains the same.