This could also be called; the invisible battle that people may not know is there, although it’s been there all along.
Why are we here to stare? All of the people tare and tear about in their own muck of decay. They are not weary, they keep going along in their own muck, they are not stuck, they don’t buck alongside their horse that carries and tarries them. They destroy and do not care, why are we here to stare? Such a road of despair. They hate themselves not. They have the right cheese wheel. They don’t have a wagon wheel, I have a wagon wheel full of wood and lumbering. How many am I numbering? Do you have a wagon wheel? I don’t have a cheese wheel full of blue and raspberry. Mine is wooden, trodden. They don’t know that they fly like a bat with their night vision and their oversized television full of play and no remorse about their daily adventures. Mad Penny, but not lost Penny. Why are we here to stare? No one would care. Why do we bare? Sailing away to the shore of that bore that created my wagon wheel, at least it floats to that mine and down in. Maybe the spokes will catch that wall or the latch so we are not eaten by those lost alligators. Why are we here to stare? It looks comfortable in that blanket under the snow. Yes it has the reality goggles and its brain doesn’t feel the coldness. Did it catch leprosy? Will it be missed? No just frostbite, isn’t it a site? Just set it up, and you will see what we don’t want to be. Oblivious in that pretend reality….ok but it’s just augmented!?!? Why do you care?
By Margaret Leora Workman; Warponie Art
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