a class of idiot

all our heads are filled with the same words
each as drab and burning as the next
its a miracle that we push forward
each with different colored shoes,
but all still protecting our feet
the thinking man gathers much moss
he slumps down in chairs
consumes the world with sad stares
joins in chorus when one is needed
monsters inside each
oh well the diatribe of the demented
falls on ignoring ears
the symphony, the melody forgotten
replaced with malady, malignancy
broken bottles and empty cans
litter the streets and invade
on the hoping spirits of weak
Will I wreak havoc on wandering hearts
which slash tires with little thought
a beginning of an ending a miracle
and a loss
spin the wheel ride the ride
shut up and sit down

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