Melts In Your Mouth and Not In Your Hand.
Melts in your mouth and not in your hand.
Sure, as you wipe a variety of sticky colors onto your pants.
Life is a lie and the better you live all depends on how well you kiss the ass
of whoever is above you.
At the top of that social ladder is a shaky individual.
As unsteady and unsure as one can be.
Keeping them from falling those many miles to the ground is a loose grip.
Soon a person, big and tall, will reach the top to greet that individual.
The ladder sways to and forth, the weight is just to great.
The grip diminished and then completely gone.
Before another blink can pass a loud crash is heard down on the ground below.
The empty space allows the swaying to cease.
A confident person can replace the first and get their grip on the top rung.
Before they too are shaken to the ground by all the corruption.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
