Life on either side is not easy.
Some sainted, some pilloried, some crucified
All at the altar of angst and anger.
Killing two birds with one stone is idiomatic,
Killing one is idiotic.
Killing yourself is normal,
Killing loved ones is suicide in the name of tragedy
Or vice versa.
Killing the other is, well, regular.
Tragedy is the remixed comedy.
My fears, someone’s strength,
My tears make someone laugh,
My glee is someone’s sorrow.
The hunter is the new hunted,
The hunted, the rotten carcass
It’s a proletarian chaos,
We die unsung deaths
After eventful lives.
1 comment:
interesting:)...I think the 'the' in the third para can be omitted...will sound better
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