Nonetheless Is Under Control
Nonetheless Is Under Control
Does it matter so much to you?
Is it the here here or hear hear when
registering the depths of pain upon this World?
We had a life here,
it might not seem much to you -
now we understand the laboratory of World
you have created and not, ‘sanctuary!’
‘It was a life we couldn’t wait to live,
couldn’t wait, to die!’
“Then, there was our children too.”
It is ‘not’ much for you to throw away,
with seven billion to choose,
chips be a hefty sum compared to human wishes,
human endeavours and human innocence,
‘my wife is dying from making love!’
“so many, so many the same,
so many, so many;– the same!”
Where are our children – now cloned?
Are they hidden within your bogus accusation
and extreme excuses as;-
the doctors want more than elderly care homes
to dangle before big pharma!
Do we not love as people,
do we not supply your roles by our
efforts to be a somebody?
Is it another medal or prize to gain
for our destruction or is the Nobel Prize
now upon your cure taken from the shelf?
‘Are we not real anymore?’
I read the obituary column today,
I wondered how morbid this skydiver has become,
I read the obituary column today to see if my wife’s name had been entered,
She died a thousand years ago and is to die again,
Still I look to see her name,
It is not there,
“I suppose she didn’t make it,
nor I,
nor our children but,
it is said it was a good effort,
nonetheless!”
Michael J Waite. 1st July 2024.
I still love you.
I am still broken.
