Within my fingers, I grip the destiny of words and thought
lyrics dropped like bombs incite riots inside of schoolyard playgrounds
we stand together
along the side of the fence
watching the crowd run aimlessly to and fro in futile attempts
trying to put out a fire with dry hay and splinters of foundation timbers
fanning the flames with hands clasped and lips parted
flesh melts before a kiss can be received
death without love releases primitive screams
lifeless infants lie in their mother’s arms; she no longer able to nurse them
dead as the look in her eyes
the umbilical cord ignites
smothering the babe with the wrongdoings of its birth mother
where is father?
he is burning too
caught up in the misty haze of responsibilities between home and bottle
for him
this reality is hard to swallow
so he fills himself on sacraments before continuing his father’s cycle
his shadow is haunted by mental abuse and past physical trauma
knuckles lie wrapped in scars from the crest and cleaned by striking the tears of another
in life or fortune he would never win
so he carries with him a shotgun on his shoulder
an itchy trigger finger when someone draws closer
hiding behind illiteracy and the pure desire to be reminded of…
how it is to feel...
once again before death knocks
once again before it is too late
where there was love; exists instead
the angels weep as they count their new collection
with strings around their necks
showing imperfections
while trying to break the cycle; losing direction
hobbled wheels
thump thump along the cobblestone
wheelbarrows full of the remains of another family gone
their will to survive into the soil will be sown
nurturing the next breed of man
watered with the dreams of the last left wondering
if life looks the same above water