The Lives of Others

Out among the places where rats live with vermin

the voiceless masses protest their lack of anything to say 

by striking out blind against a world that swallowed them, 

rummaging for purpose in the lives of others, 

and carrying off fool’s treasure to the shadows where they count their spoils.

The floors we walk are stained with blood 

that flowed from a stranger’s veins to drown this place 

and out to the street where a river runs full of it, 

rising higher with each day that dawns, 

each blind fool who wanders into its current

swept off to the ocean and out to sea. 

Back at the source a door is left open,

and eyes watch the river away in the distance

for a sign, any sign, that the blood will cease flowing.

I haven’t posted anything the past few days because me and a couple of my best friends took an impromptu mini-vacation just before the weekend. It was a much, much needed break from life. Now I’m back to it, and I’ll keep doing my best to get a new poem up every day, starting with this one. Looking forward to reading your thoughts on this one.

Photo by Vijay Putra from Pexels

10 responses to “The Lives of Others”

  1. I see two poems here. It could be two poems, I mean. The first five lines is one, and the rest is another.

    “Rummaging for purpose in the lives of others” is strong. It reads to me like a solid critique of people not willing to put in the work to make their own way.

    Liked by 1 person

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