The Beach
Jul 22, 2017 · 1 min read
The Beach is like a distraught mother
To creatures of the rarest kind.
In the distance flaps a fin,
Oh! There’s a painful sigh by another,
But, mostly all lie still,
Are as calm as the serene sea.
Thousands of men with a painful delight,
Turn the beach to a pitiful zoo.
Men who take pride in their inventions,
Also wipe out creations of God.
There is no remorse; only hollow after thoughts.
For inventions are so intoxicating
It casts a blanket over you
And you can’t see the slow poisoning
And you can’t see death approaching
But, once the hangover has left you
Once the blanket is cast aside
You shall for yourself realise
One day, it will even get you………