The Human Condition


Lives shattered and bodies scattered
All over the uprooted scene;
Putrefying carcasses are picked apart
By gaunt, frayed beasts.

There is sorrow everywhere,
It rings through the air like a piercing siren.
The storm has hit hard and cruel,
Transforming lives to arithmetic glyphs for easier digestion.

Brows permanently contorted downwards,
Lips down-turned and eyes flowing.
There will be no relief here anytime soon,
No respite is forthcoming.

‘Who won today’s game, I wonder’,
Yawning say I, and change the channel.




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