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The world tomorrow

Give me a handkerchief,
nay a roll of toilet paper
to wipe my face
the pollution is disgrace
my lips only soil vapours embrace
give me some soft oily perfume to exhume
my nostrils burn
give me blocks of ice
as you save for mortuaries
my body burns with sunrays heat
my pockets have holes
and from soils I’m told
comes the filth of corruption
we all love it but random
the rich still soar high
the poorer view
a distant mirage

Oh life what are you!

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 

Comments

one of the most coherent and well-put-together of your works, that I have seen in awhile! My only question is what you meant by the line: " we all love it, but random" ? ~ Gee

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random is at times
when one picks up a penny
from no where

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