There is a muted conversation
In broken english  from the recesses of  the  dark room but the intent is clear

Overnighters all eyes and hands
grasping at the tattered remains of
reason they struggle against
the methods of maddness
this world makes custom
for each of us

Her smiles
are near to my heart
but her fingets too close to my wallet

The heavy hitters
step to the plate but
remain mute when they given
a chance to save the day for
this set of innocence

The crippled man limps
slowly to his last meal
while vultures pick his pockets clean

Im in trouble here