Blood and the Coffee Shop
By Paul B
Red stains on the pavement floor Ripped lives and bloody gore And there amongst the pain I saw the evidence of the most mundane A woman’s bag, maybe a shoe, remains of a date Flowers delivered just a minute too late Body parts on the pavement stone Bloodied hunks and shattered bone A butcher’s shop Laid out at a city bus stop And what do I feel Confronted by these visions of the real Pain? Anger? Hate? Or vast indifference? Shocked as I am to the inference I think I’m numbed to vent The horror of what that meant Otherwise my mind would break Leaving only a soulless flake But at night when man has left And nature’s soul once again holds sway Then those tortured souls come to me Reminding how fragile I could be And anguish at wasted life Disgust at useless strife. Written December 8th, 2001 © on Dec 08 2001 09:23 AM PST 18 • 0 • 10
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"Red stains on the pavement floor..."