The writer

The clatter of screams
as vulnerable as a photo in time of the ill
looking inward to madness for the pill
looking for scape goats
to coat our sadness in grief
the way out temperature of relief
we are the haunted hungry ghosts
from an island mentality
caught in avarice like animality
the bleeding hearts couldn’t hold back their pack instincts
the writer keeps his thoughts succinct
but the light is where we are all linked
Hope must shine a light to scare the darkness away
we need the goddess to shine her rays
Wisdom is in the creation myth
but lies can’t paint the truth
the artist doesn’t need proof
the scientist his heart speaks louder than the rhythm in his chest
The door way answers the key with a rest.

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