The Cry
Morphing from sky hue to minty green blue
Stretching beyond the horizon of one’s eye
With this great bundle of water there is no clue
Why? Well by being polluted and mistreated one oversees its cry
Indeed, overseeing this is not any different than a menu
Penetrated with fatty acid and hemoglobin composed for a succulent flesh
That once had a heart and feelings too
Yet, were terminated to be placed between seed buns to be compressed
Ripped and shredded by white yellow rocks filled with goo
Juggled by the rocks from left to right
Still not see the cry? Well imagine it is you
Raised only taste great and have a murder “good” night
End any animal consumption for they are our brethren like me and you.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (1)
Log in to leave a comment.