Okay (jeez…that word again…) another poem.

 

I walk down the lane

of sickness and pain

Pretending, I do not see

The man on the street whose got nothing to eat

Does not even know where he lives

I see what I will;

And not what I should

Regardless what the case may be

A suffering woman…a dying child

Mean absolutely nothing to me

I don’t give a damn

If you’re tall, short or fat

If you’re pretty…you’re ugly or thin

I’m the nightmare that crawls into so many souls

Indifference is what you’ll call me

© 1995

 

wow..the beginning of this poem knocked me for six…I’m like ‘who is this person?…then towards the end I realised that 1995 ‘me’ personalised indifference…I’m like…she (me in 1995) was pretty deep.  fingers were twitching to edit ‘man on the street whose got nothing to eat’ but I can’t (I promised…warts and all).  Still…well done 1995 ‘me’ …pretty nifty poem…for a young adult back in the 90s (if I say so…myself)  Hardly even think of indifference nowadays…kinda like the norm…pretty sad…(if you ask me…jeez..do I ever shut up!)

 

 

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