She dressed in mourning, eyes sunken
to past years when work, family,
life's anticipations skipped to now.
Life all but gone, so sick
she searches for fruit from heaven's vine. Sadly,
it's taking so long,
but patiently she waits, in pain.
Another woman hums as she fondles
bundles and sticks of lies, promises unfulfilled
clogging her mind, her pores, her sink.
Hair, once belonging to another,
faux waves beautifully cascading
on shriveled shoulders attempting
that not so gracefully disappeared,
into timeless wrinkles, impossible to hide.
But she tries, and looks horrific,
Two boys scramble, screaming
for candy their mother blindly provides,
after she finds her own favorite kind
intoxicating, concealing, secrets
inside enormous ripples of flesh, hurting
from empty substance that erupts upon
her kids, rotund but hungry for Old McDonald's
happy foods. America's youth, growing.
Young man rushes through aisles, seeking.
his baby's food in sugar jars, nutritious
crayon colored bargains, painting future
sweet. Parenting's easy
when food's sold 2 for 1.
He pays, turns, displays,
bloody crimson, "Kill",
written on shirt, stolen
Judging lives is easy, from perspective
of my line, nose high above others,
Gratefully, I'm unlike them,
tragedies so few, youthful still,
not yet obese, children perfectly polite,
and skinny too,
no money... problems, stable mind,
devoid of violence, mostly kindness,
compassion fills my time.
(Submitted to DVerse Poets.)