I was chasing after a lure
When I tripped over a curse
And fell onto a puddle
Of low self-esteem and depreciation.
Ignited by the wet fury
Of ugly words and humiliation
I shouted back at the creature
That was propelling itself towards
My direction.
Surrounded by black fumes
And a foul smell,
The all-so-called nation's giant
Spit its rotten core on my face
And made me swallow its agony –
Its willingness to show off such
Despicable, infamous attitude
Disguised as pretty neighborhoods
Caged by fences and walls
And barbwire and fire
And mainly by condescendence,
Disgust, nonchalance and hatred.
Its lack of beauty, respect and time
Was shoved down my throat
As its pace and scorn
Were tied around my waist
As if I had no choice
But drown in its universe
Of brutality, greed and fierce certainty
Of being always right
And essential
And driven
And above
Whereas, in fact,
It’s nothing but built
upon sulphuric hell.
Its pride for being an engine
Blurs the view of those
Who can’t see
It’s just leading
us all
To rock bottom.
The lights are off
And the gray rain never stops.
Imagem retirada do blog http://www.ricaperrone.com.br/
recomendo o post http://www.ricaperrone.com.br/terra-da-garoa-e-do-mau-humor/, relacionado a esta minha postagem.
