Caress Of The Thumb

Caress Of The Thumb

I've met many of whom I wished I hadn't,
So many situations I cannot fathom,
The tears that won't dry,
That keep flowing down their innocent cheeks,
The same cheeks that have felt the burning slap of a chilling hand,
And a thumb caressing it afterwards.

I've seen so many children cry,
Their voice not strong enough to keep with the screeching,
Their eyes so pure but glossed over with pain,
Born into utopia of a sick mans dream.
Their stomach rumbling almost at the the same volume as their whimpers at night.

I've seen people be alone,
In the same house that once was full.
Their silver hair dark and dismal,
Their wrinkles forcing a frown.
The phone not alive.

I've seen the neglect of millions.
Barricading them off,
Silencing the screams for help.
Boats full of gold skinned human beings,
Worth copper,
Labelled with lies.

I've seen mothers with no children,
Forced to live alone.
Looking at that same picture.
Trying to rub it back to life.

I've seen men and woman die,
With the blood on the hands of authority.
Crippled by the weight of the world
Working the streets at sunrise,
In jail by night.

I've met many of whom I wished I hadn't,
So many situations I cannot fathom,
The tears that won't dry,
That keep flowing down their innocent cheeks,
The same cheeks that have felt the burning slap of a chilling hand,
A thumb caressing it afterwards.