deepundergroundpoetry.com
millions and the wooded divider
millions,
millions rest on the stalks and branches of the wooded divider
such a small place, yet such a massive world
for those who share its cool, shaded understories
and its warm, sunglazed leaftops
it's a beautiful thing, isn't it?
a sliver of hope on a thick atmosphere's viscera
dominated by those whose minds have been paved shut
with concrete and steel
millions,
millions, every day, push and shove past the wooded divider
on both sides, towards placebo, and only placebo
plastic comforts and their value in rocks and deadwood
the very same that will line their glimmering graves that no one will visit
millions,
millions and millions will pass
and millions and millions more will come, and pass again
but no matter how small the wooded divider becomes,
the ones who grew its form will always prevail
over the ones who made its shape
Published 10th Jul 2015
| Edited 19th Jul 2015
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