Get Your Premium Membership

Common Ailment

A Common Ailment Eleven o´clock in the forenoon I had been to my doctor and was going into the nearest cafe for a coffee, but soon the city dwellers filled the place with the smell of unmade beds, uncombed hair and the despair of lonely nights. The fresh bun I was eating absorbed it all and I could not eat it. Many people live in cold rooms, have no gas and kitchens are full dirty pots and pans. Apathy sets in personal hygiene suffers, why bother? Sleeping in the same beddings for weeks, socks and underwear grimy and soiled, which results in fatigue of the mind . Self-esteem is replaced by self-loathing, unless someone speaks up or bangs pot lids together their life will be short, empty of pleasure and light.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 12/19/2013 10:25:00 AM
Desperate. The clanging of pot lids could cause heart failure among the morning after crowd. Even the bun stales in the midst of it all.
Login to Reply
Hansen Avatar
Jan Oskar Hansen
Date: 12/30/2013 1:25:00 PM
a moment when my dusgust of humanity takes over

Book: Reflection on the Important Things