PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

By this wasteland I see before me

Of human scars in a circular motion

I take comfort the blind cannot see

This trash heap in the whirlpool of this ocean

Clogging it so that it cannot drain,

Stagnating further beneath the rain.

More and more the plot gets thickened

Making like-minded souls so sickened,

For the lack of humanity and compassion

Surpasses their childhoods' wildest dreams;

They never imagined such a heaping ration

Of forsaken hands and broken seams.

Now they see it all with the weight of the world

Pressing down on their shoulders through alarm clock rings

As they yearn for return to simpler things.