Like Shorthand On A Reporting Pad

The bricks fell down

Seems the burlap frayed from the friction and weight

And, now the clay lies in broken and dusty piles

On a sidewalk, as everybody passes by

Without a twitch of a single eye

The ink in perfect syllables

Devastating news for someone, entertainment for another

A midnight crash, a family dies as a drunkard lives on in a headline

And, where the reason is won’t be found by asking why

Only that love was found in misty, heartbroken eyes

Like a child in war, a soldier cries out

“What are we fighting for?”

Like shorthand on a reporting pad

The news had such little time to sink in

Now, the world is spinning on its side

And, all that was normal has quickly become a broken smile

Just as soon as the food on the table has spoiled

Enter the flies to feast in the spoils

As all that was good hesitatingly recoils

The earth, now split by a deep crevasse

Can’t help but spill its thoughts of secrets long known

Of good and evil and the dust of our skin

The sinew, the bone, the heart within

The closest of enemies, the closest of kin

Like darkness on doorsteps, a man on his bed

Reliving his life, his virtues, his sins

Like breath in the lungs of a newborn baby

Death will conquer, but Hope will live

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