Seas of sorrow

ebb and flow

putrid stench of

Hatred

Yet we believe…

Somehow a sad face

realer than a happy one?

Happiness, a farce;

an illusion of the mind?

Cultured to be subdued

disengaged or eschew?

Yet we see panhandlers

abroad, viscerally sad,

broken

believed to be fakes

cheaters of the system

standing on the median

broken

– n.v.