Better Use Of My Time Poem by andrue finley

Damaged goods to an excellent service.


Lifeless till life touches. leaves gentle vibrations amongst it's already delicate paths and textures and faded grey tones.


It begs to be put down and left alone.


X's over it's mouths and eyes it ignites with the repeating lie

'it's ok it's nothing'

when deep down it ashes whatever innocence it can muster at the end of each day.

Begs to be alone, 'put me down! ' it says


Or tries to say, since it's lips were locked shut from both evils done both ways.

Pinned frozen to 'Guilt' influenced by 'Other'


Whether we believe it or not.

Age, gender, nor color means nothing

and at the end of the day

We are all victims to something.



Punched by some form of oppression.

Kicked by multiple levels of aggression.

Slapped by the novel of words claimed to not hurt but manages to break the figurative bones which quite frankly bruise just a little bit more each time.

Left shaking by the helplessness that wasn't included in the proclaimed detailed packaging


And coming back to this point.


Being afraid.

Let that sink.

Sit and think.

Do we deserve such things.


Knowing somewhere life and death is actual fact and as tragic as we skew things.

can that be reflected by the many still on this earth with their souls painted black.

its insulting claiming death as a option.



Who's to really say that boyfriend or girlfriend you envisioned your entire life but left singled out deserves a stupid tear.

Who's to say the fear to never know deserves a kind hand and a open ear or a concern or a petty show

Who's to say accepting something you fought tirelessly is worth the honorable defeat.



When all this time writing about my hollowing mind could have went towards making one persons day a little better.

instead of the likes of you.