Poverty Of The Soul

Poverty of the soul is what we see today,

In chronic dissatisfaction’s headlines displayed.

Living vicariously is really not an enlightened way,

Makes everything precarious in a fragile sort of way.

Where is that gratitude and respect for what I do or say,

When silence is all that returns to me in your empty grade.

Why give anymore of myself when amnesia rules your day,

A funny, vacant kind of love you give back, I really have to say.

No Gratitude, no Thanks, or no acknowledgement do I ever find,

In an empty bankrupted soul from a very selfish one-tracked mind.

And, your cunning recitations do make dysfunctional communications.

Like one great-big fatal mistake, I just give while you just take.

As if dead leaves are gathered at the end of a garden rake,

You collect them all and then throw them in the trash,

No memory is worthy of this ingrate counterfeit cash.

This impoverished soul becomes quite the thriller,

If one likes living with an indigent soul killer.

But I will forgive you again and just move along

To let you sing your old deprived victim’s song.


©2014 Tim Gega

FEBRUARY IS SUICIDE PREVENTION MONTH
- Suicide Prevention Since 1986- Emotional Awareness & Literacy