#WritcoPoemPrompt59

"What's wrong?"

You know that face.
That raised or furrowed brow,
The twinkle of concern or suspicion
In the eyes of a loved one.

"What's wrong?"

You were just reading:
There are multitudes more
Stranded in the sandbox
Than what the press is reporting.

"What's wrong?"

You lost your grandmother four weeks
Ago and the wound is still raw in
Your soul. Now the family is picking,
Prying, starting a fresh hell of fights.

"What's wrong?"

And now the black-bloc asses
Are shooting up the red elephants,
Getting praised to the blue heavens
And getting bailed out by their angels.

"What's wrong?"

You're drunk. You can't
Picture life beyond the present:
For fear of a darker future, or
Paralyzed horror of any real future?

"Tell me, what's wrong?"


© Miyamoto Yoshi