helpless

It’s the rule of Mother Nature.

Survival of the fittest.

So why do the best perish?

And the rotten apples stay behind?

To rule over countries,

Wreak misery on friends,

Lie to their bosses,

Get undeserved promotions.

My psychiatrist said…

Talk to me. Please.

But I sat in silence.

What if she was one of them?

Pretending to be my friend.

Friends who’ve stabbed,

Terrosists who’ve killed.

Who to trust,

And whose shoulder to cry on?

People ready to think the worst.

But what if they really knew.

The grey clouds,

Without any silver lining,

Glasses of wine gone sour,

Glass mirrors,

With cracks in them,

Airline tickets with endless conditions,

Silver earrings gone rusty,

And faithful dogs

Who’ve grown weary.

What if they knew?

Would it make any difference at all?

It’s the end of the world,

It’s 4.23 am,

I’m still at work,

Trying to make a difference,

But I know I won’t.

It’s too late.

Tick tock, the clock mocks me.

It mocks my brother,

My divorced parents,

My ageing step-mother

And the terrorists.

I don’t know their religion,

But they want to know mine.

Security checks my bags as I step in for a glass of beer.

The clock ticks.

People pass the buck.

But nobody really cares.

Except the families.

Families of the corpses.

I’m no Kurt Cobain.

But did he ever wonder…

Why aren’t the drugs working?

Grieving mothers

Under sedatives,

Worried citizens,

Popping Crocins.

Helpless writers,

Puzzled foreign secretaries,

Weary citizens,

Fretting mothers,

Scheming politicians.

Take your pick.

I picked the drugs.

But they didn’t work.

Nothing erases their images.

Images of good apples perishing,

Terror all consuming.