It’s a tired time we’re living in,
A tired time indeed.
We’re on the verge of giving in
To gluttony and greed.
And we say that we are fighting,
Yet we haven’t changed a thing.
Nobody of their size will stoop
To hear the free birds sing.
And if we cannot fight the foremen,
We normalize instead.
I guess dying does seem normal
When everyone is dead.
I wrote this for a Lord of the Flies creative project for school for which a prompt was to write about what would happen if it was girls on the island instead of boys.
When you are old and too tired to sleep,
Steeping like your lemon tea
In ancient memories and dreams,
I wonder if you’ll think of me.
When your forehead’s deeply lined
With remnants of the tears you cried
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