I'm beyond the call of flaws,
or your masterful touch.
Further, I'm silenced,
because jokes and memetics
about such unfortunate
circumstances
cause the mob
to shout 'suck it up'.
This leads me to question
two things-
Am I even a Human Being?
Or do others
suffer too?
They don't speak
on the peaks
of their lowest points.
They turn off the TV,
not to resist the propaganda
from a bone-thin media,
but to be blind to the ugly.
Am I the tragic face
in the screen
that you always turn away from
in order to make your eggs
for another breakfast?
That tank-top is formfitting,
and I remember when it laid
right next to me.
I'm sorry.
YOU ARE READING
This Gray, Unfortunate Place (2)
PoetryPoetry that straggles the heartstrings. (You don't have to have read the first book.)
