The poems that tumble out
Friday, March 8, 2019
Human
How sad to be a camera.
They see death
and don't feel sad.
They watch people have sex
but don't get aroused.
They witness horrors
and don't scream out.
How sad to be a camera.
They see everything.
And feel nothing.
Lucky.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment