Flee, Young Hearts

Really nice write by princenothing.

prince nothing

Tread no more upon the cracks,

And lonesome gaping crevices,

And sidewalks taken for granted,

Of this county’s senseless, winding roads –

As gruesomely we gallop

To the hills of middle-age

Layered in afghans of dissatisfaction,

Shivering bitterly from the decimation

Of opportunity, equality and dreaming

In this, a graveyard of industry,

Filled to the brim with shops,

And belts moving, stock rooms overflowing

The burgeoning, swelling, mountainous pile

Of the idle, disillusioned poor.

There grows no fragrant garden here,

No mirthful woodland expanding;

Only fear,
the colour of snow and exhaust fumes,

Only mistrust
in the shape of an unknown bulge

At someone’s side or back,

or in a pocket –

A hidden Raven, a harbinger

Of an abrupt report, an empty sigh,

And a dismal, final beat

for a young heart.

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