Swoosh

It is raining so very very hard

Yet the sound of an owl in hills

There are caverns cut in our hearts

Just waiting for the words, to be filled

We can all type out the same chopped lines

Swallow down the same white pills

Corporate logos pay the imaginary bills

A slice of pie from their monthly kills

 

And a lion sings in the stable

Carrying the weight of the lonely

There is no wind to chime but, well only

mother preparing food on the table

 

Another afternoon bleeding out in vain

Father passed away like the sounds of a train

the kicking legs of a dying beast in the plains

 

Visions of this woman’s Solitude

Positioned to be companions

yet fighting for their food

The animal condition of the humans

In this zoo

 

A spider quietly creates her place above the shoed

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