He sits collecting narratives,
People drop them in boxes
Ready to sort into piles,

He looks out the window
Across the courtyard,

An overseas student whistles,
A farmer whittles a stick,
Single mothers queue for coffee
And their children run amok,

Crows gather
And rest on lamp posts,

Shadows are whispering contradictions,
Violent thoughts are trending,
There are wild winds roaming the streets
As dusk’s sky seeps all blood red.

A village fool shouts obscenties
At the idiotic masses,

An old man in well worn clothes
Rants nonsense at the crowds,

A wise and down to earth statesman
Offers comment on society’s ills,

And we’re here in the now,
We’ve put down our notepads
And started scrawling obscenties
Into wooden doors and fences,

There’s no real choice anymore,

Everyone’s upset about the lack of options
But no-one knows what the options should be
Or why they should even exist,

Lovers argue over myths,
Friends fight for alternative truths
And anger rises
Into the same cloudy sky,

Before the blame
Rains down.

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