Pig Roast
There's an old evil man inside of us
molding us into his own image
There's a young boy in our graves
who stares through us with cold eyes
All is still around us
There's life before us
There's death after us
and we're trying to outrun them all
like fat piglets fleeing the roast
we run about in throngs
trampling one another for a pick of the pie
for a reason not to die
Prolong the pig, make it's flesh ripe and round
We'll live out our lives here
and bathe in the magical springs below
(laughs)
Ludicrous and humiliating.
Directed towards the blade of a knife
the edge of a cliff, the tip of a blade
falling and sinking into our graves
only to be that young boy once again
-J. M. Simpson
click HERE for LOVE poems and HERE for NEUTRAL poems.
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