We are standing in line outside of something
often rebuked, yet always back returning.
I heard laughter and forgotten consonants,
its unrelenting memories of happiness
but inward grows a soberness, an awe.
Poverty gnashing its teeth like a blind cat at their lives.
Oh mother, mother, where is happiness?
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 2:57 PM UTC
We are standing in line outside of something
often rebuked, yet always back returning.
I heard laughter and forgotten consonants,
its unrelenting memories of happiness
but inward grows a soberness, an awe.
Poverty gnashing its teeth like a blind cat at their lives.
Oh mother, mother, where is happiness?