Footnote of Life


This is what I see
Beating and
You can judge me now
It’s okay
Because I’ve seen it
In ways not
Of everybody else
Feels about it
I’m not the only one
I could name few
On my finger
While I tongue the last drop
Of my tea
Already cold and bitter
Here on my window
That faces the desert
Attempting to observed
A last plight of migrating flock
Avoiding electric lightning
That forked down the sand
I see it as not defeat
A chance
Like a last train ticket trip
At deserted night
A last card we throw
With a cross finger beneath
Our trouser
Or rolling a dice on our calloused hand
With the raw raw raw circling sound
In a wooden table
Bit our lips hard
We just get lost interest
Of living
In a corner
Getting tired
resting one hand
On the chin
Thinking more
About life
It’s insecurity over death
About how life had its claw
That not everyone
Won a lottery
Some of us came in like fart
Poor with old pants and ripped
Shirt with a drunkard father
Beating them every night
Some got lucky
He had everything
Only he had
silver spoon
Dangled in his sorry ass


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