deepundergroundpoetry.com

Turn It Over

Sounds like a broken record
The present
Always developing
Always the third
I am just telling the truth
There is no new news
There is no time machine
To take us out the blues

We look up with hope
She is by our side
Singing the song
The song for the master
To leave her some food
She pushes it to you
So you can eat it too

The cage has been shiny
And now it is fragile
The smell of the rust
Lingers in the air
Scrape some off the bars
Melt it down, to shoot it up

We Pass the time
To forget time passes
To forget our misfortunes
To forget the hunger
To not hear the song
Which has turned into noise

Slumber we choose
From the checkmate put
Before our first child
Before our first kiss
Before our first cry
Before the egg met the sperm
And made this; us
Unlucky sons of a bitches.
Written by LUUH19 (Emeraldia)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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