Saturday, 19 May 2012

Music Of Mosquitoes

The prison portal ajar
To the domain of despair.
O eyes of conscience
Watch with me
This warped world
Where harassed humans,
Most making atonement
For sins not committed
Worry about wicked warders.
Between morning and noon
Half-boiled beans in bags
On wheel barrows arrive,
Breakfasts arrive with no condiments.
Harassed humans sit eating,
Still nursing skin lacerations.
On bare floors
They lie at night,
Barely enough to stir.
Music of mosquitoes,
Music of their nights.