Poem By Liza Sud
What could be behind one's purpose,
To invite the visitation of a known headache.
What is the addiction?
I don't get it when I hear people complain,
Over and over and over again about the same thing.
When all that needs to be done to prevent the doing,
Is to stop the re-occurrence of it.
What is with people whose minds are confined,
To high school corridors...
After more than fourty years they should have left behind.
Wouldn't have been advantageous for them,
To take their places in the world and adjust to fitting in?
But listening to their child-like conversations,
Something is loved by a starting to lick,
A taste for those conflicts they begin but don't end.
And what is devastating about all of this,
There are only a few who view the doing of it...
As silly, foolish and pointless.
While those of the majority accepting a delayed maturity,
Believe they are owed candy the moment it is advertised on TV.
Then to moan and grown about the paying back of loans,
That has deepened their debts yet they keep attracted...
To whatever their neighbors also have,
Although it has decayed 'their' quality of life as well.