captures underground inclinations
millions of push
the artificial dollar
huge presents for the rich
my gift to you is salvation
take the time to breath and step away
drop your phone
Shut the beveled edge computer machine
I remember once upon a time
I used to play in the green womb
Black mirrors can only show your future
I see you
the real present in the now
YOU ARE READING
Salad Days
PoetrySad poems from sad and angry times. Written from a juvenile time (14 years old) to older. That's what you get when you leave a teen to ponder reality. A pen hits reality harder than high school survival. Original Art from Vivianne Rheaume
