MEET THE PIG

 

Welcome to hell,

It said.

Feet dragging,

Motions emotionless, moving us along as shackled angels lacking beat,

Heat like silence packing sheep,

Bound to a conscience, never able to crack or weep.

It’s all about strength, is the whisper in the queue.

Knowing that some day the target will fall on you,

Too much not to go insane, twists the brain,

It’s nothing new, this staring into the ground,

Understanding the pain of waiting to drown.

Fear is human nature,

Something like insecurity and failure,

Knowing the danger of a secret lost to a friend,

But we will all fail in the end.

 

So we smile, joke, kid ourselves that we’re not just towing the line,

Waiting to meet the pig, waiting to finally be defined.

We just continue to live,

Pretending the chains will fall or slack and give,

Walking so tall like we’re more than spit in the mouth of a giant,

Pour our hearts out in violence,

That is to say hearts can be poured,

More like bent and re-shaped in discolor.

Me? I resent this waiting.

What does it mean,

But to one person,

One forever,

Once only.

 

◄ TONIGHT

AND FEAR IS NOT YOUR FRIEND ►

Comments

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Richard

Wed 26th Jun 2013 18:49

I missed this and I love it, this is my kind of poem, very cool :)

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