Grievances of a Persimmon

Mental shadows darken the corners,

Of their minds,

Fantasy seeping from the delirium of no responsibility,

In their minds,

Truth sticks like a pig pole, bleeding them unwillingly,

Through their minds.

They stamp out the embers of burning passion,

Of this world,

The plants and creatures are not equal, they are “conquered”,

In this world,

Running frantically, pushing past the real time hurt,

Through this world.

A simple persimmon is picked by the starving hand,

Of their mouth,

It is shoved in without thought; with blind ignorance, the truth is bitter,

In their mouth,

Responding to the truth is better than a fist,

Through their mouth.