Wednesday, 16 April 2008

Long meeting at work, a poem happened:


Inside is a stranger, stuck
Done to death himself
Such a state, such a strait
Jacketed sort, wears ties

Worn ties, discarded bonds
For securities exchanged
Traded away life bygone
When found fear of living

Unafraid, dwells, unaware
In silent shell, living dead:
A stranger.

2 comments:

100hands said...

sinkingdrainingdrowningbleedingdead.

K said...

I really fear for the person holding this meeting.