Disconnected Dots

We're a social disaster,
knocked over like a house of bricks;
wreckage through which to sift
where laughter once glued us together
before the aftermath of apathy.


Now cold-shouldered and alone,
we stand in different corners
playing by ourselves
and trying to trick our own shadows
the way we amazed each others' before.


A flock of birds disbanded
soaring separate paths;
prone to misdirection, collision, collapse
as result of
foolish division.


We are writers
making our own revisions
and the danger it implies;
imagine a surgeon
performing his own incision.


A world disconnected.
But with solitude comes revaluation
of what's been diseased.
How I pray we can disinfect it.



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Jessica R's picture

It's about time you write something new. You haven't lost your touch. LOVED IT!