You think it’s funny?

You think it’s funny?

The prostitute screams
Bleeding in the streets
— Wrists slit,
She screams;
You look — paying no heed —
And you think it’s funny?

The drug dealer rides
Telling lies as your child dies
From the addiction the dealer provides
— And you think it’s funny?

Why?

Because you can’t see;
You’re caught up in societies greed;
All you care about is me:
Self-entitled dreams,
Fantasy,
Just make believe
— It’s all about me.

When will you realize
There is more to life
Than materialized possessions
That you can’t take when you’re dead?

When will you understand
That when one is terrorized:
Violently molested,
Murdered without objection,
Raped in the name of love,
Abused because the man could
— That it isn’t funny:
For this could be you,
Or the one you love,
Or even your wife.

All that matters in this life
Is for you to think,
Contemplate on the things unseen:
The struggles of others,
Thinking of those in need
Instead of your own damn greed.

For the things we see here in this life,
What we touch,
Taste,
And breathe
Are not what they seem.
They are but a dream,
A fraudulent smoke screen
Forcing one to see
— The self-entitled me.

And you think it’s funny…

You Think It’s Funny? by K. Saitta © 2014, A Walk In Verse

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