A Sponge Soaked In Sorrow
A SPONGE SOAKED IN SORROW
Sorrowful is his soul
On the whole
Black is his heart
An organism which should have ended at the start
he weeps at everything he sees and hears
Feeling as if he’s falling off a cliff formed of fears
every time a child is slain like a sacrificial lamb
Those are the souls he wants the universe to damn
It’s difficult for a man made of silence and sweat
When he kicks a habit and his sheets are once again wet
Beating the street while battling the heat of an arid August day
His soul is satin and he‘s moved by every death is what people say
mornings mean more misery and miserly sympathy for this man of whom they speak
His dreams are dreary and his nightmare’s make every second seem bleak
I know this man as well as I know I’m laying in bed
Because that man is me so please just put a bullet in my head
© 2011.…Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
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