jeering through narrowed eyes,
freshly wetted lips, pleasure wrung hands.
the Life sits unaware, battered without prior knowledge,
learning the difference all too painfully
(if they ever learn of it) between Truth and belief.
that sick slick sickening sound you hear
is the communal voice of those who celebrate
only when others have fallen; those who strive
not to know, but to know first. Weakness
is anything shown to the wrong person;
Justified is the twisting of anything found.
even love can be ruined here, if seen
through the narrow hole of a windbag,
if echoed off the walls of empty caverns we once knew as people.
©afterthoughtcomposer
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| found on pinterest. origin unknown. |
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