The teardrops fall,
Light glints off their curves,
As they fall like bombs,
Spiraling towards the earth,
Detonating on impact,
Kicking up tiny clouds of dust,
Pitting little holes of misery,
Into the soil,
To be walked upon,
And obliterated,
By those unaware,
That there is something,
So very wrong
.
.
.
So many in pain go unnoticed, unheard, unseen. For it is too much of an effort for many to just lend an ear for a few minutes. It is a chore to care. That's why you'll never find a self absorbed person who has ever completed suicide. Just my opinion and thoughts the poem provoked in me.
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
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