Bleak Reality
Drifting into oblivion, living from a bag,
Walking to their own tune.
A life fallen from the trees,
Living on the streets.
Ghosts in denial,
the bleak reality.
Refusing to claim their trees,
The path is endless.
Their journey is short.
Choosing a destiny that injures their pride,
Poisoned and shunned,
the bleak reality.
Existing as mice in a world of man,
Scavengers – puffing and exhaling mortality.
Puppets to a bottle or a pill.
The wails of Jack Daniel echo,
The bleak reality.
Withered souls burnt into ash,
Denying the shriek of sirens.
Manipulating the inevitable,
Ignoring the door of reappearance.
The bleak reality.
That shovel they’re holding,
Keeps them trapped in a state of their own mind,
And the smell of rotten flesh.
Afraid to drive despite holding the wheel.
Previously: Sylvia’s Mothering
Relit
Choosing Recovery
Leading Me Home
In My Element
A Path Made Of Thorns
Memory Storage
Wings Of Wardship
Running Out
Yes
…for too many sadly the right to die high is their ism,i seek misery.
Wow
This is a massive improvement
Superb …I can only wish to write like this
Keep on writing it
Nice allegory too. Poetry always we think have to have a certain rhyme or pattern, it doesnt
Nice work
Nice work, well done
That sums it up ;-(