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Poem: Song of Isolation
Seems we dwell on this earth for a small spec of time
The wisest of us learn to detach from all the madness
70 years or less to work, love someone and die
Only to find that our deaths are as bitter as cold cabbage
Ironically, consuming raw vegetables extends human lives
But many with the extra time would rather cheat, kill, and lie
And this is where I sigh because crying has proven useless
The fact that humans do it less as they age loosely proves this
But then again, crying might have a special place
In a world where we must often publicly save face
When angry inside, we run to our personal place
Where saltwater can freely trickle down our face
We whimper ourselves to slumber as night passes to morning
Believing the new day will bring anything but more mourning…
©ascended_breath
