Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2019
A cryptic message is scribbled
on a small white paper
Then passed to a thin pale figure
as he leaves the small room.

Pale figure ride
Pale figure glide
This will surely be your cure
One last hope for the hopeless here

But why cure a man in one day
Why collect a single fee
When they can treat him for a lifetime
And get paid repeatedly

Oh poor sickly pale man
If only you knew
What cruel jokes they play
At the exspense of you

Ride pale figure
Glide pale figure
Into the arms of a thousand angels.
M. McCrea Jr. 2019
Written by
M McCrea  38/M/Cali
(38/M/Cali)   
224
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems