The docks,cold in the northern wind. I look out to sea,a lone fishing boat returns to the quay. Surrounded by a flock of squabbling gulls like excited children waiting for a party. They swoop and soar dive and dart like victorious warriors after spoil. A feast for free. So many copy their style in a world of "I want" and "I deserve". Taking the plunder,wolf-like,ravenous. What is left,what remains is injustice and despair.A desperation that binds itself to the culture,inseparable untill the fabric b r e a k s and the last remnant of hope leaves on the final tide.
Comments
Post a Comment