Sewer of Life
I've heard the smell there is Hell
only your friend/enemy...trades tainted money
Bodies are bought/sold...with/out... knowledge/permission
Souls are left damaged/bruised...repaired/ripe...
I feel the scar of broken dreams on the stench of bad breath
foul-fools only to the weak of hearts and wounded minds!
I hear the cry from a tribe who never show fear...
among a twisted smile/back-hander
Devil in disguise...
a dime a dozen in the sewer of life.
I know who/what you've been up to..your dirty dealings will be for all to see
you think a blind eye can be turned to your murky dealings
the bones of my hand will show the blueprint of your true colors
Let the record show
' My soul is not for sale'.
Martina Moriarty's Other Poems
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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