you're no hero of the day.
you run into empty buildings
it’s so much easier to collect
from those more oblivious than you.
you're no faster than a speeding bullet.
you take the coward's way—fraud.
the hollow require air to bloat themselves;
the bloated gnaw the fat from the bone;
the children need a role model fashioned
from something other than a rental suit.
© Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.
Poetry served to you raw and unedited from the moment crafted;
all poetry is older work and chosen at random unless otherwise noted.
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