Little Jimmy Fell In A Pickling Vat

Toxic future
Vats spilled
Filled
With children who've fallen victim
Instantly
They realize
What they've done
Who let this happen?

The ghosts skimming the walls
Leaching off mud colored paper
Lips suctioned tight
Working their way up
Yet none the less
Bottom feeders

Or maybe it was the readers
Always between lines
But now between the sails
Wind bludgeoning
Beat red
Unfed
That's why they're hungry
Taking anything
Whether truth or lie

Either way
We point the finger
They bend
Unnaturally
Factually biased
But facts are fucked
And they went home a long
Long time ago

If you think you can
See them
Hear them
You must be
As drunk
And hopelessly hopeful
As I Am