Friday, 9 April 2010

poetry how does it feel

How does it feel?

Morning warm and snug, wrapped up tight

Waking cold and hungry, unsettled night

Breakfast cooked, maybe cereal or toast

Searching trash for bits, making the most

Discoloured water on broken paths

Gold coloured taps, on porcelain baths

Clothes washed ironed and folded neat

Walking dishevelled through the dirty street

Overflowing bins, rubbish strewn, upon the ground

Affluent places where only the richest are found

The educated elite, silver spoon, land on their feet

Graduates of the school of life on every street

How does it feel, can we truly know?

As we pass by, about our business we go

Do we really care, or are we just fake?

Are we but victims of the choices we make?

Working hard to earn enough to pay your way

Alone and unemployed, just another day

Holiday breaks away, posh hotels in which to reside

While those less fortunate are left outside

The crush to reach and achieve our goal

Self-obsessed ego’s without a soul

Is it there but for the grace of god go I

Or is it better to cheat, steal, or lie

Birthdays, get together's family fun

Forgotten memories, a life undone

The journey of life, school, job, a wife

Reality hits hard and cuts like a knife

How does it feel, will we ever know

Unless into the same depths we go

A humble man can still be king

With love, kindness, and charity the joy we can bring

Hiding from our fears will not make them disappear

Life’s murky waters are often unclear

Do we determine the path we choose?

Or is life merely a game of roulette you win you lose

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