Have a Nice Day

At some point, death will intervene,
But, in the interim, the killing tick
Of clocks, the numbing news of
Sniffles, snuffed-out revolutions,
Life unloved, to be endured,
Will play, a play that's unengaging,
Before eyes which hate to see.
There was a world, once, worth
Having, unencumbered. It is
Gone, and there was someone,
Once, who saw this world, who sees
Obligations now, who cannot
See what is before his face. Instead,
He sees what was or what he fears
Will be, and dies. The planet isn't
His. The grayness of unending
Twilight falls upon him, like a
Hood a prisoner somewhere
Would wear, and he, resigned,
Resets his chains and nods.
It's time for death to intervene.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 85 times
Written on 2014-02-23 at 01:13

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