Poem: Bedlam

Bedlam

This place is chaos.

Bedlam.

There is no cleaning up the disorder.

Bedlam.

The anarchy runs through the gutters.

Bedlam.

Disarray defines the souls and streets.

Bedlam.

Turmoil lives in the hearts, in the being.

Bedlam.

The mayhem ricochets from one to the other.

Bedlam.

This destruction is turmoil, wreaking havoc.

Bedlam.

Inhale the uproar.

This will have to end,
when we run out of youth
or wood to hit each other with.

About mattylife

"And no one is a stranger...for long."
This entry was posted in Guyana, Poetry, South America and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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