I live in the upside down-
where going up is going down
Cacophony is music
and ordered notes a blow to forbearance.
The mouth walks the man
with swagger impressing
the untrained eye.
Instinct is blood fueling life
follow the happy course
but Reason kills the man.
Self is king of a windowless room
perched on the edge
of a glass with no bottom.
On the streets is truth,
a warrior, battered and left for dead.
A snake wears Charity’s clothes
a broken butterfly on its lapel,
there is Hope.
Flowers are plucked before they’re born
No sense in having them in the world
But who will mourn their death
Mothers line their wombs with thorns.
The timeless has no meaning
nor place in a world of now –
Hands chase the present and reap the wind.
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