Pink Paper Poem by John Weber

Terse smile goodbyes
barely disguise
my consternation
at ego vices
and group devices
building stagnation.

On my treadmill,
feel the dread chill
snaking up my back
vibrating fright
along my plight
to fix what I lack.

My soul charade
keeps getting played
to brew distrust
by hushed mouths sour
helping devour
these motions robust.

I'll hide away
this lonely day
until the finish
of this cooked dream
crafting a theme
I must diminish.