8 Billion Wards of the States

All 8 billion of us
have mental illness
some 
subtly 
so
others profound
it's a matter of degree
of shade.

Some are reachable and adapt
become chefs-CEOS- presidents
others curl inward
cannibalize themselves
crapping out 
psychopaths  
creeping about
raking fangs along 
the thinning peace cloud... 

We've emptied asylums
population is at critical mass
somebodies going to crack
place an iron neck upon the tracks
derail societal peace
plucking lives
off the vine
before 
they're
ripe.
Some are unreachable just outside the grasp.
They'll never adapt
They'll never climb out of the rattlesnake pit.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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Hankins Avatar
March 24, 2021 at 9:21 AM
Such a sad piece of writing, Anthony, but so true, I am afraid. At my age, I'll probably not be around to witness the results of this bedlam, but I sorry for my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildrens' sakes. Good writing!
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