The sounds of the crowds around me, drowning
My thoughts. I ought not to be fraught with
Jealousy, indelibly. To hell with me;
To hell with them. Endlessly rendering
Judgment and grudges, uttering loveless
Orgies of words. Gorging on stories that are more or less
Lies that are cited as wise. Their eyes always dry
For they never endeavor
To see clearer, to look in a mirror.
It uncovers the ugliness deep under
Their makeup. Won’t wake up to face up to
Shutting out the loud mouths of the crowd with a
Bullet and gun,
And I’ll be the one to pull it; I’m done.
Copyright © 2020 Brandon Ellrich