My eyes drag down, opaque the fragile lens

As this era  ends, we hold our breath
Our guts and vitals shiver with suspense
Eyes protrude, face pales, whose is the death?

The forces of the media oppress
They never even  pay, less recompense
As this era  ends, we hold our breath

Blunders made, dilemmas will oppress
Too much thinking does not make more sense
Protruding eyes, pale faces whose the death?

Each of us believes we know the best
But no-one is at ease, we tremble, tense
As this era ends, we hold our breath.

I wonder how to greet this  dreaded test
My eyes drag down, opaque the   fragile  lens
Protruding eyes, pale faces whose the death?

As the tigers launch, men smile content
They have satisfied their egos in this dance
As this era  ends, we hold our breath
Eyes protrude, face pales, whose is the death?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
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